Without Armor
by Vita Brevis
Summary: Snape feels responsible for Harry, and from there, their relationship grows. Written Pre Ootp and will continue to disregard conflicting informations from the book. CHAPTER 8 UPLOADED! This chapter: Snape is bitter and jealous. DISCONTINUED.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
  
I had long discarded the notion that this world was just.  
  
Tell me, how could a just world snatch away the first true love of an orphaned, seventeen year old and blame the mourning boy for her death?  
  
Yet, that was what had happened. Cho Chang and her family had been found dead yesterday, with the Dark Mark glowing brightly above their roof in the moonless night. Today, a dozen Howlers from the family's relatives were sent to the girl's boyfriend, blaming him for the assassination. They said that Cho Chang's proximity to him had caused her to be targeted by the Death Eaters. Although the truth was that the Changs had fallen victim because of their involvement to defy that damned Dark Lord.  
  
And these were the people we labeled "innocent civilians" who we tried to protect from the villain's clutches!  
  
But who was I to judge? After all, I was just about to treat Harry Potter with the exact heartlessness those people had shown earlier.  
  
"Mr. Potter, do you realize that your inattentiveness to this particular lesson can get someone else killed? Again?" His girlfriend's death and the Howlers incident had severely distracted him in my class today. Not that I blamed him. But my façade must be maintained; there were too many things at stake. Lucius' brat had been watching me like a snake with its prey since I had rejoined that blasted, megalomaniac Dark Lord's group.  
  
"Sorry, Professor." His face was pale and his eyes had lost their usual glow. There was no sign of anger over my cruel remark, and this infuriated me even more than his usually bratty attitude. It enraged me because I realized what he had been thinking. He blamed himself for the Changs' death.  
  
I almost shouted at him how absurd it was. Instead, I clenched my fist hard. "Detention, Mr. Potter. Tonight, seven o'clock in this class. Don't be late or I'll deduct points."  
  
He nodded and returned to stare at the blackboard with vacant eyes. I turned my eyes from him and continued the lesson.  
  
"Dragon saliva makes an extremely explosive substance when mixed with sulfur."  
  
Needless to say, my mind was far from dragon or sulfur or whatever that came out from my lips that morning. It was a miracle how someone could function so automatically when they were distracted. I was very grateful for it, because I couldn't possibly say out loud of how I fervently wished that Harry Potter wouldn't break under pressure, could I?  
  
********  
  
He arrived at precisely seven o'clock, knocked on the door, and entered before I bid him to, as was his usual mannerless habit. Like me, he too had been functioning like a charmed tool: performing his task without emotions or thoughts.  
  
Without a word, he obeyed my instruction to clean up the cauldrons while I pretended to be fascinated by the Potions Journal in front of me. The truth was, I had been watching him as he worked absentmindedly. I was speculating about the true feelings behind his composed feature. Composed for the untrained eyes, of course. I was a spy and prided myself on my observation skills, which now told me a lot about him.  
  
First of all, he was grieving deeply. The escalation of the war had made him lose so many people: Diggory, Molly Weasley, Hagrid, and now his own girlfriend. It was a wonder how he could still bear all the grief so stoically. I had never seen him cry, nor wallow in self-pity, and I respected him for it. I used to think that his girlfriend's death would be the last straw for him. Yet, here he was, cleaning cauldrons without any sign of fury over the callousness I had inflicted upon him.  
  
Of course, it wasn't acceptance that made him stay quiet; it was guilt. He really did feel responsible for those deaths. Albus had once told me that Potter would trade his life for theirs if he could. Stupid boy! Didn't he know that he was the hope of the Wizarding World? The beacon to which we looked when we despaired? Didn't he know that those victims were merely casualties that must exist in every war, but he was our banner, which must not fall?  
  
"Potter, self-blame is unbecoming of you," I spoke with a low tone, startling him so that he dropped the sponge to the floor.  
  
"Sorry, Sir." He quickly picked up the sponge and dried the floor with a cloth. "Did you hear me, Mr. Potter? Or have you become deaf? Self-blame is unbecoming of you."  
  
"I heard you, Professor."  
  
"Then stop it. Stop taking the blame for other people's misfortune."  
  
"Excuse me, misfortune, Sir? His eyes were narrowed and there were some sparks of rage in them. Green fire, I called it. The fire that had been haunting me ever since I beheld it six years ago. The fire that usually lit when he was angry because of my unfairness in class. Imagine if people had known that my only reason to treat him with such spitefulness -- more than was necessary to conceal my true loyalty - was simply to see the green fire flaring in his eyes.  
  
But now, I taunted him not for my usual self-serving purpose.  
  
"Yes, misfortunes. This is war, and they are the unlucky ones who fell victim to this mess," I say indifferently, as if those deaths had meant nothing to me.  
  
"They died because of me," he said in a low voice. "They died because Voldemort is after me."  
  
"Don't be so vain," I snarled. "Do you think the world revolves around you?" Actually it was mostly true, at least for the wizarding world, but I was most reluctant to tell him that. Let him harbor an illusion that there was still one person in Wizarding World that didn't see him as more than a mere boy. "The Changs were killed because of their involvement in the Order of Phoenix, not because the Dark Lord suddenly had a sadistic streak to break your heart."  
  
"How about Cedric? He died because I insisted that he take that bloody Cup? And Mrs. Weasley? And Hagrid?" He had the cheek to snarl back. Good. Better an angry than a depressed boy.  
  
"I hope that the Diggory boy incident is lesson enough to discard your foolish Gryffindorish nobility. And for others," I shrugged, "As I said, they are just the casualties of war no one can avoid."  
  
"You. You heartless bastard!" he spat with all the venom he could muster. His eyes were blazing, God, he was such a beautiful sight when he was furious! So alive, like a human in the midst of mannequins, like a colorful picture in the midst of black and white photos.  
  
"I am, aren't I?" I chuckled. I should have stopped the cruel taunting, but I couldn't. The green fire enthralled me again, and I needed to see more, to feel more of the heat of his fury, his spirit, his youth, his life. "You must wish I was the one who died instead of your girlfriend. Too bad not all of your dreams can come true," I said in a casual tone. "But do be grateful that you can still inflict your tormenting presence on me."  
  
"Grateful? How can I be grateful when people are dying around me? Are you grateful because people die because of you?" He had gone too far, and he knew it. But once the dam had been broken, there was nothing you could do to stop the flood. "I'd rather die!"  
  
How could this boy be willing to throw away the life had been granted? His fire, his strength, his beauty that I so secretly desired? I couldn't bear the thought that suddenly emerged in front of my eyes, the image of a pair of lifeless green eyes in a cold body. I shuddered. "Don't you dare say that!" I became furious.  
  
I stood up and approached him with anger radiating from every pore of my being. He noticed and cowered slightly. There was an unusual fear in his eyes. "I am sorry, Sir," he said, almost stuttering. "I didn't mean to."  
  
I grabbed his wrist. "You.! Don't. Ever. Say. That. Again. EVER!" I roared.  
  
"Ye.. yes, si... rr," he stuttered in fear. I must have looked more dangerous than Voldemort, judging by the trembling in his body. I took a deep breath and let his hand go, berating myself for losing control.  
  
"Don't say things you might regret, Potter." I sighed. Damn the boy, always made me dead with worry.  
  
He merely nodded. His eyes were watching me warily; perhaps for fear that I might explode again.  
  
"Go back to your dorm." I dismissed him, though he had only cleaned one cauldron out of twenty.  
  
Wisely, he didn't say anything. He packed his bag and left with a still stunned expression. "Good night, sir."  
  
"Good night, Harry."  
  
************  
  
I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned in my bed, but the image of the dead green eyes kept haunting me through the night: a green flame dimmed, from a blazing fire to a dying spark, then became glassy and dull, and died. All of these happened while the body was still breathing. Alive but dead. Like so many living corpses in the world. This image was even more frightening than the boy's dead body. For one's spirit is immortal even after its body fades, but who can revive a dead soul? God maybe, but I was a skeptic whether or not such a divine being existed.  
  
The bright light should not die, or the world would fall into darkness, Albus had once said to me. I didn't understand him back then; I thought he was merely justifying his tendency to give so much leeway to the brat. Now I understood that Albus had been correct all along, Potter was the hope of the Wizarding World at large, and mine too, for I desperately needed something to hold on to as well. I truly regretted ever belittling his fame as a Boy-Who-Lived. Who would have guessed that Voldemort would return? And with him, the terror that haunted all of us? That in the end, I too, must look upon the scar I used to ridicule to find a small hope, that went fainter every passing time, that we were not fighting a losing battle, that the Light would vanquish the Dark eventually?  
  
No. There was no way I was going to let him die inside.  
  
But who would prevent Potter from breaking down, especially when no one noticed his condition? People always put him on a pedestal. If they found any flaw in him, they'd just throw him away altogether, just like during his second and fourth year. I remembered that even his closest friend had left him once in his fourth year, when that foolish red-head couldn't suppress his jealousy over Potter's fame. People either worshipped or condemned him. No wonder he hated his fame so much. No. His friends were not an option.  
  
Albus? He was too busy with the Order. I had never seen him look so weary and old. He probably hadn't slept for days lately. Moreover, the death of the Changs had caused more losses on our side. Poor old man. I certainly didn't want to be in his shoes right now.  
  
Minerva? As much as I respected her, she hardly knew how to take care of her own House, let alone dealing with such a problematic, depressed boy. She would probably send him to Poppy who would drug the boy with the strongest anti-depressant and lock him in the Infirmary. Or worse, send him to a counselor who knew nothing but some psychoanalysis rubbish, brainwashing the boy about how much he had been wrongly treated by his Muggle relatives, and that his imperfect upbringing had caused him to develop some nonsensical complexes.  
  
And certainly not that mongrel! I couldn't possibly leave such an important duty to that reckless irresponsible mutt. Look at what had happened to the Potters years ago! I wondered why on earth did Albus trust Black for the important missions he had been carrying. Perhaps for the lack of resources on our side.  
  
There was no one left to take care of that brat but me.  
  
I sighed.  
  
I was not a babysitter, much less to an insufferable mannerless boy such as him. A Potter to the core, but with more cunningness. Slick as a Slytherin, foolhardy as a Gryffindor, strictly loyal as a Hufflepuff, and perceptive as a Ravenclaw. Though I often stalked him around the school, I had never caught him red handed. Was it nearly a remarkable amount of sheer dumb luck that he had or was he truly sneakier than me? I didn't know. If he really was sneakier than me, then it meant a lot, considering that I had been a spy even before he was even born.  
  
Besides, I was not a nice guy and never would be. He hated me for it. Not that I blamed him, but it made my job a lot more difficult. What should I do?  
  
The clock chimed four times. I groaned. Too late for me to take the Dreamless Sleep Potion now; it would make me sleep until lunch if I drank it. That dratted boy deprived me of sleep again. Today, I had to teach four classes, one of which was Slytherin and Gryffindor second years. Not to mention my increasing nightly call from that blasted Dark Lord who badly needed to get laid. Not much of a chance there, I though wryly, who wants to shag a skeleton with red eyes?  
  
Speaking of that Dark Lord, I had to be careful in approaching Potter. No one save he and I could know my change of demeanor toward him. I could arrange some detentions so I could talk with him in private. That was not a problem. But how on earth I was supposed to gain his trust while I treated him like rubbish?  
  
The problem lay in me. I was not known to be nice, and never would be! Talking with my Slytherins was easy, they always held me in high regard because of my blatant favoritism toward them, and because they didn't need cuddling or that kind of luxury. Unlike the Gryffindors.  
  
Gryffindor. Lupin.  
  
No! Not that irritating werewolf.  
  
I'd rather tutor Longbottom for a month. In my chamber. With the most explosive ingredients.  
  
But choice was an indulgence I was not allowed to have. Lupin knew how to approach Harry; they were friends when he was still teaching. And Lupin was the only one who knew Harry that I could respect, though grudgingly, for his calm and rational traits.  
  
I got up from my bed and heading toward my desk. I grabbed a quill and parchment, and write:  
  
Lupin,  
  
It has come to my attention that Mr. Potter has developed some sort of emotional instability due to the recent tragedy that involves the death of the Changs. As I deem no one in this castle is available for this demanding task, I set upon myself the responsibility to help Mr. Potter through his problem. I grudgingly admit that you possess more knowledge in interpersonal skill than me. Because of that and due to the fact that you have developed some kind of trust with Mr. Potter during his third year, I decided to ask if you have any counsel in this matter.  
  
Severus Snape.  
  
There. Formal and aloof. My attitude toward the werewolf was clearly stated. If I could help it, I would never have anything to do with him.  
  
"Gwaihir," I called my owl. He flew through the only window in my room, and perched on my chair, looking very much annoyed for being called while he was hunting.  
  
I scowled, but he ignored me, being one of the few who were not affected by my infamous attitude.  
  
I tied the letter to his leg. "Go to Remus Lupin and don't return until he replies. Got it?" Gwaihir hooted once and flew away.  
  
************************  
  
Three days later I received the reply.  
  
Dear Severus,  
  
I am glad that you are concerned so much for Harry. He certainly needs someone who's dependable and cares for him. Don't fret too much about how to gain Harry's trust. He is a wonderful trusting boy and I am sure you'll find a way. One's method is hardly fitting for others, isn't it? Nevertheless, I am pleased that you decided to contact me. Would you please keep updating me about his condition?  
  
Sincerely, Remus  
  
Damn, werewolf! If I had known how, I wouldn't have asked you. I shoved the parchment to my desk furiously.  
  
Looked like I was all alone in this matter. 


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Without Armor (2/?) Author: Vita Brevis (altariel@lycos.co.uk) Pairing: mainly HP/SS Rating: Pg-13 for now Summary: Snape feels responsible for Harry, and from there, their relationship grows. All from Snape's POV. Archive: go ahead, but ask me first. Feedback: Yes, please.  
  
Again, this fic will never exist without help from Theresa Ann Wymer.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
I have known sorrow and learned to aid the wretched. -Virgil  
  
A few days passed without any incident. I watched the boy closely during meals or whenever I had the chance to, while trying hard to be discreet. It became more difficult, because many of my own students were watching me closely. The most dangerous one, surprisingly, wasn't Draco Malfoy, but Blaise Zabini, whose father was the most cunning among the Death Eaters. That boy wasn't special to untrained eyes, but the staff knew that he was perceptive and dangerous beyond his age, just like his father who always worked behind the scene for Voldemort. One could hardly know what lay beneath the family's trademarked cold and composed expression; it was as if they didn't have any feelings at all. Only a handful of people knew of the Zabinis' involvement with the Dark Lord, even among the Death Eaters. If Wormtail hadn't been so careless that he didn't notice being followed by Black in his mutt form to the Zabini Manor, I would have been dead right now.  
  
And who knew how many more unidentified enemies were still lurking in this school? This was the thing I hated most about my House: they were so unpredictable. Except Draco Malfoy, of course. He was but a spoiled child, arrogant and big mouthed, eager to boast about his family's involvement in Dark Arts.  
  
I turned my gaze to Potter. He'd only eaten a diminutive amount of food those last few days. There were dark circles around his eyes and his cheeks looked thinner. He barely talked with his friends and seemed to withdraw to himself. His best friends tried to comfort him, but without much success. Potter never played Quidditch anymore, maybe because it reminded him of Cho. Besides, I was certain that Hooch wouldn't allow him tp fly in his distracted condition.  
  
All the teachers, not just me, had been worried about him. But they weren't certain of how to approach the boy, let alone offer comfort and support. So they just left the boy alone though he was certainly not paying attention in classes. "His case is unique", said Sprout.  
  
Cowards, I scowled inwardly. They just preferred to wait until someone else stepped out to help the boy. Bystander effect, they called it, the presence of other bystanders decreases the likelihood that someone will step up and help.  
  
Not if I had any say in it.  
  
I finished my lunch and headed back to the dungeon. Today, I was going to teach them to brew a kind of anti-depressant. Hopefully one of them, Granger no doubt, would get it right so I could test it on Potter.  
  
**************  
  
"Potter, you sit with Granger and *do* try not to blow up anything this once, would you? Weasley, you sit with Longbottom." I smirked at the redhead's aggravated expression.  
  
"Today we will attempt to brew the most delicate potion ever taught at Hogwarts. At the end of the lesson, you'll test you're the results on yourselves. Hopefully it will give you enough motivation to concentrate." Their horrified expressions delighted me up more than any Cheering Potion. But Potter's expressionless face spoiled my joy entirely.  
  
They scurried to work, chopping ingredients, boiling water, flipping the pages of their Potion books for the instruction. I walked around, frightening them every time I pointed out something that was not done correctly.  
  
"Miss Brown, do you wish to grow green tentacles all over your face?"  
  
"No. Professor."  
  
"Then why do you add the ginger BEFORE the powdered unicorn horn? Ten points from Gryffindor. Throw this rubbish away and start all over again."  
  
"Good work, Mr. Malfoy. Twenty points to Slytherin." Draco smirked smugly. I was really tempted to spank the boy.  
  
"Mr. Longbottom, for once PAY ATTENTION TO THE INSTRUCTION! START ALL OVER AGAIN." I bellowed furiously. The idiot almost blew up the whole class by adding the ingredients at the wrong time and in the wrong amount. "And that would be twenty points from Gryffindor."  
  
And so the routine went on. I ignored Potter completely, more because Granger made sure everything was done correctly rather than restraint from my side.  
  
Two hours passed and I called them to stop. "Now, it's time to take a dose of your own medicine." The whole class, minus the Slytherins, looked terribly terrified. I turned to examine Granger and Potter's cauldron. It was perfect as I had predicted before. Too potent, even. I suspected Granger had dared to experiment a little.  
  
"Potter, Granger, each of you, drink a spoonful of your potion." Granger paled slightly. Such a potent potion would made them laugh for at least an hour.  
  
They dipped the spoons cautiously and drank. The next second, Granger laughed uncontrollably and only after I administered the counter potion could she stop laughing. Dear Merlin, the potion was even more potent than I previously suspected!  
  
Potter, however, was only giggling for a few minutes and stopped. Sweet Salazar!  
  
"Detentions for the two of you for daring to experiment without my consent. Tonight, eight o'clock and don't be late, or it'll be fifty points."  
  
***************************  
  
They arrived precisely at eight o'clock. I assigned Granger to the library to summarize a very thick Potion book, due tomorrow. I had known that it was not entirely her fault that her potion became so potent. Drier ingredients made the Cheering Potion more potent, and she had collected hers long before the other students did. However, why ruin my reputation by canceling the detention? Besides, this was a good chance to speak to Potter alone.  
  
"Potter, grind these cobra fangs finely." He nodded and began to work while I graded the first years' horrible excuse for essays.  
  
It shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes to complete the simple task I gave him. Yet, it took almost an hour before the task was done. He worked absentmindedly, sometimes he even almost ground his own fingers in result.  
  
To my surprise, his face wasn't expressionless anymore. He didn't have enough energy to maintain his mask for a whole day. He was tired, that was apparent. He looked downcast and sad. Tragedies these last few years had taken a great toll on him. He no longer looked like a perfect imitation of James Potter; jovial and cheerful, as if the world revolved around him. Harry looked so old, so worn out, crushed by the burdens he was carrying.  
  
He put the cleaned equipment into the shelf and looked at me. He didn't put his mask back on though; he seemed to be too tired to care. "What else must I do, Sir?" he asked, not believing that I was so kind as to assign him such a simple task.  
  
That was your chance, Severus.  
  
"Come with me, Potter."  
  
I rose and headed out from the classroom. I locked the classroom carefully and heading to my chamber. He looked bewildered but didn't dare to ask a question. I whispered my password, "Dumbledore", and Salazar's painting swung open.  
  
"Come in, Mr. Potter. And stop gaping like a fish."  
  
He walked in warily. When I closed the door, he jumped.  
  
"I assure you that if I wanted to have my wicked way with you, I wouldn't bring you into my private chamber to accomplish my purpose."  
  
He blushed. I smirked.  
  
"Do sit down."  
  
He sat carefully on a sofa, as if there were a booby trap on the thing.  
  
I poured a glass of butterbeer and handed it to him. I poured myself a double shot of scotch.  
  
"Thank you, Sir." But he didn't drink.  
  
"No matter what you and your companions think of me, Mr. Potter, your virtue is safe with me. I'd no sooner bed you than marry your mutt godfather. Besides, I don't want to suffer a fate worse than Cruciatus should Albus suspect that I have corrupted his golden boy." I smiled wryly.  
  
He smiled a little at my sarcastic assurance and sipped his drink. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the drink spread through his body. He emptied the glass quickly.  
  
"More?"  
  
He nodded. I filled his glass. "Thank you, Sir."  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
We sat in awkward silence. I didn't know how to talk to him, while he was certainly confused at my recent attitude toward him. We sipped our drinks quietly, trying hard to pretend to be occupied by our own thoughts. But we were not. The boy stole a glance at me whenever he thought I was not looking, while I stared into the fire, thinking about my duty.  
  
I really had no idea how to get through him. If only I had been as wise as Albus. Well, better try that old man's tactic. He had coaxed me to talk, when I came to him with my guilt, by telling me about his life: his struggle when fighting against Grindelwald and his guilt the unavoidable losses. Baring my soul to Potter wasn't something I was looking forward, but I didn't know any other way.  
  
"I was raised mainly by the house-elves. My father hated me, because my mother died when she gave birth to me. Mostly, he just ignored me, pretending that I didn't exist. But every time I did something that disappointed him, like failing my Transfiguration exam, he never forgot to tell me how exactly he felt about me, and why. I was never forgiven for staying alive while his lover was not."  
  
"But that is not fair!" He was shocked. Either by my willingness to tell him my secrets or by the fact that such a parent existed, I couldn't tell.  
  
I chuckled mirthlessly. "This world is hardly a fair place, Mr. Potter."  
  
"But... He can't blame you for something you didn't do! It's not your fault that your mother passed away," he said heatedly. Ah, Gryffindor to the core who couldn't stand any thought of unfairness.  
  
"So, if it isn't my fault that my mother died while gave birth to me, is it your fault that you survived while others didn't, Potter?" I looked at him sharply. "What did you do to deserve the guilt?"  
  
"I. I.," he struggled for words but could not find any. He slumped against the chair, clutching his empty glass on his chest, while the implication of my statement sank in.  
  
I finished my scotch, feeling smug (Albus, you must be proud of me) and relieved that I finally got through to Potter somehow. I knew this was not enough though. Grief was a complicated matter. Although I could make him throwing away the ridiculous notion that he was responsible for the deaths, he would need more than that to cope with his own losses and his responsibility as the Wizarding World's hero.  
  
"It is getting late. You must return to your room."  
  
"Yeah." He put down his glass. "Thank you, Professor."  
  
I nodded. "I must warn you though. Keep this conversation a secret. You know what is at stake."  
  
He nodded, knowing that I was working for Albus as a spy.  
  
"In times like these, one cannot be entirely certain of who the enemies are and who're not." I reminded him of Pettigrew.  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
"Good night, Harry."  
  
He looked stunned hearing me calling his first name, but quickly composed himself. "Good night, Sir."  
  
He had walked to the door, ready to open the door when I said, "You are most welcome here anytime. Just remember to be discreet. And as much it pains me for saying this, use that damn cloak of yours."  
  
"Yes, Sir," he answered; his voice showed his surprise. I smirked again. I bet this was the most extraordinary night in his life: Severus Snape, the greasy bastard of Hogwarts suddenly invited Harry Potter, the bane of his existence, for a drink, giving him advice and. surprise surprise, he even invited the brat back! He must have thought I have gone mad.  
  
He was probably right.  
  
*****************  
  
"I lost Pinky, the house-elf who raised me, when I was twelve. She passed away because of old age. I was at Hogwarts when it happened; I didn't find out until I returned home for the summer. I didn't even know where she was buried; you know how wizards treat the House elves. I didn't cry."  
  
A week after our little "chat", he visited my chamber. I didn't say anything. I just let him in and poured a glass of butterbeer. He was sitting on the sofa, right on the spot he had previously engaged, across my favorite love seat, and sipping his drink in silence. After twenty minutes or so, I broke the silence by telling him another story , hoping that this time, I would get a better reaction from him.  
  
He finished his butterbeer and I filled his glass again. I gulped down my double Scotch and pour myself another. I had started drinking again after I rejoined the Death Eaters, and this time was this habit would help me keep talking. Speaking about your deepest secret wasn't an easy thing to do, though it was hardly compared to the sacrifices I made as a spy.  
  
"I guess that was when my heart started to become callous. I often thought that if I could endure so many hardships without shedding a tear, as a strong man is supposed to be, then people who cry and whine are weak."  
  
"That is until I saw Albus cry."  
  
Potter's head turned to me in surprise.  
  
"Yes, Albus cried. I saw him cry twice. Once at your parents' funeral."  
  
"And?"  
  
I sighed and emptied my tumbler. "The other was when I confessed my involvement with Voldemort to him. His eyes were wet. And that, more than anything else, made me realized of how deep was his concern for me."  
  
"Do you ever cry?"  
  
"After Pinky's death? Yes. The most memorable is when I found Pinky's grave, shown to me by her fellow house elves. I was thirty-one by then, but I cried like a five-year old."  
  
"Did it make you feel better?"  
  
I looked at him in the eye. "Yes. And I regretted not doing it sooner."  
  
"Albus told me once that contrary to popular belief, crying is not a weakness. It is an act of courage, to face the pain and your own weaknesses."  
  
His lips trembled and I knew what would happen next. I walked to him and sat beside him. Mimicking what Albus had done to me years ago, I circled my arm around his shoulder and pulled him to my embrace, though awkwardly. His body shook with suppressed sobs; his howl of pain was muffled by his hands, which were covering his face.  
  
"Just let it out, Harry."  
  
My words broke his defenses. He cried onto my chest, soaking my robe and shirt entirely with his warm tears. Pinky used to rub my back when I was in distress and that was what I did to him now.  
  
"I miss them so much," he said between his sobs.  
  
I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say, so I just let him talk.  
  
"I miss Mrs. Weasley. She's like a mum to me. She held me in Infirmary, when Cedric died."  
  
I continued to rub his back, feeling my heart break little by little at the sounds of his sobbing and his admission of pain.  
  
"I miss Hagrid. He was my first friend. He's the one who made my dreams come true: he took me away from the Dursleys."  
  
"I miss Cho. God, how I love her!" He gripped my robe and cried harder.  
  
A few minutes passed like eternity. Finally, his sobbing subsided. He wiped away his tears, feeling ashamed of breaking down in front of me, his hated enemy. But I guess he couldn't help it. He was overloaded.  
  
"I guess they are happy now. Cho is with Cedric now." He gave a mirthless laugh.  
  
I didn't respond to that. Instead, I brought him a glass of water and a phial of Calming Potion. "Here, drink these."  
  
He complied without question. Having gulped down the water and potion, he yawned. I transfigured the sofa into a cot and a handkerchief into a blanket.  
  
"You'll sleep here tonight. Tell your friends that you spent the night in the Infirmary. I'll straighten this out with Poppy later."  
  
He stretched out on the cot and laid his head on the cushion, making himself comfortable. I let the fire burn to keep him warm. The emotional bloodletting we had done tonight was certainly exhausting. I went to bed, hoping to get some sleep.  
  
It didn't come.  
  
*************************** 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
The week after his emotional breakdown, Harry came again to my chamber. We avoided emotionally draining conversations, as he must have been ashamed of the incident. I didn't press him about it, for I was very familiar with that feeling. I too, had avoided Albus for almost a month after my break down. I hadn't even thought that he would ever seek my company again, but against all odds, he came back.  
  
Unable to bear the uncomfortable silence, I asked him about his lessons, if he had any difficulty in following his classes. He shook his head. I asked him about Potions and why he couldn't excel my class although he had the potential for it. The boy was as bright as his father. But unlike James, he didn't excel in his lessons, although I knew he put more effort into his work than James did. After some inquiries, I concluded that Harry had difficulties because of his Muggle upbringing. Since he was trained in Muggle's logic for eleven years, he has difficulty in comprehending the fundamentals of magic. That was why he couldn't develop a spell of his own, or combine what he has learned.  
  
Of course, offering to tutor him seemed to be the most logical solution, wasn't it? Besides, it could put his mind off his unhappiness.  
  
So there he was, sitting behind the large table in my office, frowning from concentrating too hard on his textbook. "Sorry, Sir, but I still cannot understand the meaning of 'different kind of logic' as the author of this book says."  
  
I leaned against my chair, looked at him, and unusually patient, began my teaching, "We think differently from Muggles, Harry. That is one of the main differences between wizards and Muggles. As you can see, some Muggles too possess some magical abilities, like what they call ESP or intuition. But they cannot tap into their power, neither set their minds to control their magic."  
  
"So, you're saying that what sets us apart from the Muggles is the way our minds work?"  
  
"Yes, and of course our inborn magical power. That is why wizards often see themselves as far more superior to Muggles."  
  
"How do our minds work differently from theirs?"  
  
"We think *above* common logic, or what we call Muggle logic. For example, if we add two apples and two pears we can have four apples if we want to bother transfiguring the pears. We can go to a faraway place in the blink of an eye, without any means of transportation. These are, according to the non-believers of magic, opposing logic and physical laws, and thus cannot exist. They deny that there are some things that they cannot explain with physical laws. Those are the people who bind themselves and their knowledge within the boundary of physical laws. Of course, there are some Muggles who don't merely rely on physical laws to explain things. Most of them live in eastern part of the world, I believe. They use magic on daily basis, though most of the effectiveness of their effort is hindered by their non-existent magical power."  
  
"So, we are twisting logic and physical laws with our magical power?"  
  
"Not exactly. We are working *beyond* them. You see, there is another law that is working in the universe beside the physical laws. It is what religious Muggles call 'spiritual law'."  
  
****************  
  
"I think I get it," he said. This was the fourth time I tutored him about the basic laws of magic. He progressed far quicker than I had previously predicted. He was truly a bright boy. How could he not be? He was the youngest person ever in mastering the Patronus charm, winning the Triwizard Tournament, and of course, he repeatedly escaped from Voldemort.  
  
"What do you get?" I asked him, my voice devoid of any sarcasm or sneer I usually showed in class. I must have been getting soft.  
  
"Floo Powder is like a warp, isn't it?"  
  
"What is a 'warp'?" I frowned.  
  
"Um. it's a Muggle thing. Never mind." He chewed his Sugar Quill, a gift from Granger for agreeing to be tutored by me. "I mean, traveling by Floo Powder is like this." He drew two dots on a blank parchment in front of me. "If we want to travel from here," he pointed to one of the dot, "to here," he pointed to the other dot, "the Muggle way would be like this," he drew a line from the first dot to the other. "But the wizard's way would be like this," he folded the parchment so that the two dots touched.  
  
I smiled.  
  
He smiled too.  
  
Seeing his bright expression, I wondered why I didn't smile more often.  
  
**************  
  
"So what's the difference between Muggles and wizards then, Harry?" I tested him. If he knew enough of the fundamentals of magic, I could stop the tutoring that had taken much of what little free time I had between teaching and spying. Strangely, deep inside of me there was a little annoying voice that told me I'd miss these sessions. Worse, that dratted voice knew that I somehow wished he would fail the test so I could keep giving him private lessons. Had I gone mad?  
  
Maybe I had been Crucio-ed too often.  
  
"Wizards can think above logic," he answered confidently.  
  
"What does it mean?" I inquired.  
  
"The main difference between a wizard and a Muggle is that a wizard can accept and think beyond common logic, and thus they are able to utilize their spiritual power into use. Of course, the mind isn't everything. You'll need a great deal of magical power in order to twist the physical law. Both abilities must exist in order to be a powerful wizard."  
  
"The ability to think beyond the obvious is not necessary in order to utilize our inborn magical power," he added. "Like Crabbe and Goyle for example." He almost smirked. I wholeheartedly agreed with his unsaid opinion about those two. "Because of our magical power, we can still do magic without thinking like a wizard should, but we cannot develop beyond certain points. And that is why some people cannot understand magic enough to be an Animagus or to get their Apparition license."  
  
"That is a very accurate way to put it." This had to be the first verbal compliment I had ever given him. He noticed it and beamed happily. His eyes lighted up beautifully. Perhaps this was a better way to see his eyes spark with such life rather than taunting him cruelly in class.  
  
"So, do you wish to continue our tutoring session?" I asked him.  
  
He nodded.  
  
I almost jumped in happiness.  
  
Dear Merlin, I was positively insane!  
  
**********  
  
"Dammit!" I exclaimed.  
  
Harry put down his quill and looked at me worriedly. I cursed once more, holding my burning arm and ran out of my chamber. "Tell Professor Dumbledore he's calling," I shouted.  
  
I ran to the nearest Apparation point from Hogwarts, a few paces before the Forbidden Forest, and apparated. The Dark Mark burned intensely, signaling Voldemort's anger. He could will the Mark to burn more intensely than needed, just to torment us. Knowing first hand his cruelty to his own men, I shuddered to think what he would do to Harry if the boy fell into this maniac's hand.  
  
I arrived at an eerie graveyard, a different one from the last meeting. Voldemort seemed to have this ridiculous penchant for graveyards ever since his return. With his red eyes, and his repulsive body, he reminded me of a zombie, neither alive nor dead. I felt like throwing up in disgust.  
  
"My Lord." We fell to our knees and bowed deeply.  
  
"Lucius, do you bring any news from the Ministry?" he asked impatiently. None of us dared to lift our heads before he ordered us. Judging by the burning intensity on my arm and his tone, I guessed that we would bow before him throughout the meeting.  
  
"The foolish excuse for a minister still believes that you haven't returned again, milord. But the rest of the ministry staffs have started to doubt his leadership as well as his conviction about you. I have decided that backing him up will do more harm than good, therefore to ensure that people will doubt his competence and trustworthiness, I support Dumbledore's claim about your return, milord, pretending to back up that old fool's decision to defy you. In time, not only I can take Fudge's office, I can also gain Dumbledore's trust."  
  
"Good plan, Lucius." Voldemort sounded pleased. I was not surprised to hear Malfoy's plan. Dumbledore had suspected it when the Daily Prophet had reported that Lucius Malfoy believed in the return of the Dark Lord. "I believe a reward is in order."  
  
I heard Pettigrew's footsteps approaching and then a sound of fingernails clicking on glass. I was very curious as to what Voldemort had given him since it was not the Dark Lord's habit to be so generous, so I dared myself to peek a little. I saw Lucius pocketing a blue vial. What was in that stuff? A poison, maybe. I tried to sniff discreetly, but smelled nothing.  
  
"I give your son the honor to assist me in executing Harry Potter, Malfoy. After he completes his task, I will honor him to be my youngest servant."  
  
"Thank you, milord," Lucius said with satisfaction in his voice. Dear Salazar, he had to be mad, ordering his seventeen year old son to kill! And that certainly made my job a lot more difficult. I had to prevent that spoiled brat from poisoning Potter while Blaise would watch Draco to make sure that he succeeded. Interference from my part would cause suspicion from both of them, from other, yet unknown, spies. Whoever thought that Hogwarts was the safest place on earth had to be insane.  
  
Voldemort approached me. I had to gather every ounce of my will not to shiver when I heard his dissatisfied tone. "It has come to my attention that one of our most valuable members has not come to me with any satisfactory reports. Severus, you have stayed at Dumbledore's side for such a long time. Yet, you haven't given me any useful report. What do you say about this matter?" It was very clear to me that the cause of his anger tonight was me.  
  
I bowed lower. "Forgive me, milord. But Dumbledore suspects me and no longer shares any information with me."  
  
"And what, pray tell, have you done that he lost his trust in you?"  
  
I stiffened. "Perhaps my frequent disappearances have led him to believe that I am reporting to you, milord."  
  
"Are you saying that *I* caused you to be suspected, Severus? Crucio!"  
  
The all familiar rush of pain hit me expectedly. I tried to stifle my scream by biting my lower lips. It bled. I fell onto the ground and curled up in fetal position, whimpering. Dear Merlin, no matter how many times I had suffered this curse, I could never get used to it. It burned like fire on every nerve in my body; it hurt like thousands of poisonous knives piercing my skin. Oh God, please stop it. Please. I'd give anything to make it stop. I finally gave up my resistance and screamed in pain.  
  
After a few minutes, which seemed like an eternity, the pain stopped. I quickly gathered myself and resumed my previous kneeling position. Blood dripped down from my lips. The Crucio had been so powerful that I must have suffered an internal injury.  
  
"I give you one more chance, Severus. Find information about Black and that werewolf's whereabouts within a month. Fail it and you'll wish you were dead," Voldemort said menacingly.  
  
I swallowed the blood in my mouth and replied softly, "Yes, milord."  
  
To my immense relief, he turned to the Death Eater beside me; my session for this night was over. "You, MacNair? What good news do you bring?" he asked.  
  
"I have found the traitor, milord," he said triumphantly.  
  
My heart skipped a beat. I heard a sound of someone being dragged, screaming and begging hysterically. Igor Karkaroff.  
  
I let out a deep breath. There should be a law that forbids someone to feel so relieved when someone else was facing a fate worse than a Dementor's Kiss. But I couldn't help it. I knew that Igor's fate would be merciful compared to what Voldemort would do to me if he found that I was a spy for Dumbledore. Shivers ran down my spine. I would kill myself rather than fall into their hand.  
  
"Crucio," Voldemort said calmly. Igor screamed. I could practically *see* the Dark Lord's sadistic smile above Igor's quivering body.  
  
The screaming stopped after a very long time. Igor couldn't scream again. He was just whimpering pitifully. I had never liked him, but I felt no enjoyment in seeing him suffer. Hearing his screams and whimpering were pure torture; I almost couldn't stand it anymore. I wished I could run away. I clenched my fists hard. Remembering my previous torment, I couldn't imagine what Igor was enduring. I was tortured for five minutes and I barely could stand it. Igor had been crucioed for more than twenty minutes. God, or whoever hears this, please give mercy to the man! I prayed.  
  
"So, while my devoted followers rot in Azkaban, you've spent your blissful life as the Durmstrang's Headmaster, Igor. I should have awarded you for your cunningness."  
  
"Please, milord." Igor begged pitifully. "Have mercy."  
  
"Mercy? Ah, but you spared no mercy for my poor followers just to buy your escape, didn't you, Igor? You *spilled* out their name."  
  
Igor didn't answer. Wise decision.  
  
"So, Malfoy. Since you've gained my favor today, what do you think I should do to this traitor?"  
  
"Kill him, milord. Kill him slowly and painfully so that all of your followers shall see the consequences of betraying you."  
  
"And how, pray tell, shall I carry out his punishment?"  
  
"Burn his heart, milord." Lucius' cruelty was almost a match to his Master.  
  
"You truly know what's in my heart, Lucius. Very well then. Cardiacus Incendio!"  
  
I felt the burst of heat in front of me and I knew what was happening. Voldemort was killing Igor with the spell that burnt the heart of its victim from within. Igor had lost his voice because of the Crucio. I couldn't imagine what he would sound like if he had had any strength to scream. I felt very sick.  
  
I felt the flame grow hotter before it faded and died. I raised my head a little and saw that there was nothing left of Igor's body but a diminutive pile of ashes. Finally his suffering ended. Never in my life had I felt so relieved that someone was finally dead.  
  
"Severus," his hissing voice was merely inches above my bowed head. "Let this be a warning for you. I would love to try a more, ah, complicated spell should I know that you have turned against me. Do you understand?"  
  
I swallowed again. "Yes, milord."  
  
************** 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
Thankfully, with all my sore body and fear-clouded mind, I could still manage to Apparate and sneak to my dungeon unnoticeably. I'd tell Albus about the meeting tomorrow. Now I was so bone-weary tired and I just wanted to sleep. I threw myself on the bed and closed my eyes.  
  
I almost dozed off when a hand touched my skin tentatively and a soft voice above me whispered, "Professor Snape?"  
  
I opened my eyes immediately. Harry was kneeling beside my bed; his face was filled with concern. His scar looked throbbing and red.  
  
"Why haven't you returned to your room, Harry?" I scowled, which of course, didn't affect him at all.  
  
"I.I saw you, Sir. You were in the graveyard. Voldemort cast Crucio on you for a very long time. And Karkaroff. Voldemort burned his heart." His body was shaking. "My God," he whispered, still trembling.  
  
My scowl deepened. "What do you mean 'you saw'? You weren't there, were you?"  
  
"No.," he rubbed his red scar. "But this scar." He paused, hesitant to tell me. My curiosity awakened. Was there anything else about Harry I didn't know? Was he a Seer, that he could see something while his body was in other place?  
  
"Explain," I said, forgetting about my fatigue.  
  
"Can I sit here, Sir?" he asked, pointing at my bedside. I nodded and got up to sit beside him.  
  
"Umm. I saw you, Sir, being tortured by Voldemort, because you didn't give him information." My eyebrow rose because he spoke Voldemort's name so casually, but I said nothing. "And Albus trusts you, so I guess it's okay if I tell you, sir."  
  
"Stop stammering, Harry. What is it? If it's something to do with Voldemort, I need to know." His eyes widened a bit, probably because I too, addressed the Dark Lord by his name. Well, it's ridiculous to be afraid of a name, really. It was all just Riddle's campaign to spread unnecessary fear among people so that they wouldn't dare to oppose him.  
  
"My scar somehow connects me to him, Sir. If he feels particularly nasty or if he's near me, I feel my scar burn horribly. I also have visions about Voldemort when he is torturing or killing people. I saw Wormtail being tortured and Voldemort killing an old man before my fourth year. And when I was portkeyed to the graveyard in my fourth year, my scar burned like hell. I saw him kill Mrs. Weasley too, Sir. He. he. tortured her first, then...." Harry took a deep breath and continued, "I can always see when he tortures someone at the meeting. And tonight, after you left, my scar burned and then I saw him torture you and. and. I saw him burning Karkaroff's heart."  
  
Harry had witnessed my weaknesses. How embarrassing! But that was not what was bothering me. Salazar! That a boy this young must witness all of Voldemort's cruelties first hand. And tonight. Tonight was the worst, as far as I could remember, because I had never seen Voldemort kill with such a fury as tonight. I could only imagine how it felt to hear and *see* Igor being murdered in such a sadistic way. Even *I* couldn't stand it, though I didn't really see him being killed. The deep hatred I had long harbored toward Voldemort flared with a maddening intensity. I could feel my veins throbbing under my skin. I would never forgive him for ripping away Harry's innocence and throwing him into such deep distress.  
  
"Sir, are you okay? Do you need something? He put you under Crucio for a very long time."  
  
And he was still concerned about me. This boy was marvelously selfless. I shook my head. "I am fine."  
  
"No, you're not," he objected. I looked at him questioningly. He looked away "I know how it feels, you know. Being put under Cruciatus. Voldemort tortured me after he killed Cedric." His eyes looked suspiciously blurry.  
  
This time, I had to close my eyes and take a deep breath to calm myself down. Put under Cruciatus when he was fourteen? May Merlin help us all! I would never wish it on any child, not even Sirius Black. Or even Lucius.  
  
"Sir? Sir? Are you okay? Should I call Madam Pomfrey?"  
  
"No. I am fine. Just bring me a glass of water."  
  
He fetched what I asked him, along with a phial of painkiller and a jar of muscle relaxant ointment. I raised my eyebrow at his unexpected thoughtfulness. He smiled and said, "I am not a complete idiot, you know."  
  
"I am aware of that, Harry," I said dryly. "You just happen to hide that vast knowledge of yours under a very good constructed façade of a totally brainless twit."  
  
He grinned.  
  
I smiled faintly. "Go back to your room, Harry. Your friends might start asking questions if you haven't returned."  
  
He shrugged. "I'll just tell them that I went to Professor Dumbledore because of my scar then. They know that my scar hurts when Voldemort is being nasty."  
  
"You need rest, and I do too." Having downed the painkiller and the water, I unscrewed the jar and applied it to my sore neck.  
  
"Can I sleep on the couch, sir? I am really not up to walking from here to the Gryffindor tower." I looked at him and saw how tired he is. He had practiced Quidditch this morning, went to class all afternoon, spent his evening in his tutoring session, and had had a horrific vision. A lesser boy would have collapsed hours ago.  
  
I nodded. "The Dreamless Sleep Potion is on the shelf, beside my desk," I said, knowing full well that he needed it. Besides, I didn't want to be awakened in the middle of the night by his screaming if he had any nightmares.  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
"You're welcome," I said, fighting a big yawn. My tiredness returned with such full force, I felt my eyelids were closing on their own.  
  
"Good night, sir."  
  
"Good night, Harry."  
  
I collapsed onto the bed. The last thought before sleep claimed me was a realization that I never called him Potter when we were alone. And I didn't mind a bit. Harry was nicer than Potter, wasn't it?  
  
***************  
  
"So you assume that Draco Malfoy will try to poison Harry?" asked Albus frowning. Behind the façade of a merry and rather insane old wizard was hidden a serious, powerful and terribly intelligent wizard. Albus was actually as much as actor as me, choosing the mask he wore carefully. He could act like a madman or more frightening than Voldemort, depending on the situation. However, he seldom showed his "mask" to me because although his position was higher than mine, we were best friends in every sense of the world. ('While Black is not', I thought smugly).  
  
"Draco doesn't have a choice. If he fails, Voldemort will punish him or Lucius," I said while rubbing my temple. My head was still throbbing after last night's "punishment", and now it would only get worse.  
  
Draco, Draco, when on earth would he learn to stop his blind admiration for his father? Maybe never.  
  
"I am sorry, Severus," Albus said sincerely. He truly understood my concern for my ignorant, foolish young student. Ever since his first year, we had been so afraid that Draco would turn out to be like his father. Or worse.  
  
"At least Draco is only a foolish, arrogant child. Lucius has always been cruel and cunning, even since he was young," I said.  
  
Albus looked even grimmer. "Draco's foolishness will get himself killed, Severus. He might be sickened by the Death Eater activities after he joins, and then he would want to leave and would endanger himself in his attempt to escape."  
  
I rubbed my temple again.  
  
Albus conjured a pot of chamomile tea for both of us. He offered me a cup and I accepted, grateful. My body felt so tired, yet I couldn't sleep. I felt so tense and worried.  
  
"You'd better rest, Severus. Your body hasn't fully recovered yet," Albus said kindly.  
  
"Yes, yes, I will. Later. I still have to prepare new lesson plans for Harry," I said, sipping my tea.  
  
Albus smiled his all-knowing smile. "How's the tutoring going, by the way?" Rhetorical question really, since I believed that he already knew. He had called Harry to his office this morning and I believed that the boy had told him everything. Albus was one of the few people Harry respected and trusted completely. The others were his mutt godfather, and Lupin. I wondered if he trusted and respected me too.  
  
"Fine," I said.  
  
"I am glad that you have established a better relationship with him, Severus. He has always been in need of a father figure."  
  
I arched an eyebrow. "Father figure?" I snorted. "One can hardly call me a father figure, Albus. And loath though I am to admit it, his maturity is not far below mine. Besides he looks up to you."  
  
"Well, you are his confidante then." Albus picked a lemon drop from a jar and offered one to me. "Lemon drop?"  
  
"No, thanks," I declined politely. Although I sometimes indulged myself in high quality sweets, I could never take a liking to that horrid thing Albus had been addicted to.  
  
"Is that all, Albus?" I asked. I really enjoyed spending my time with Albus, my only true friend, but I really had to go back to my duties.  
  
"Yes. And please inform me about anything concerning young Malfoy."  
  
"I will."  
  
"And would you please escort Harry to Hogsmeade this weekend?"  
  
I was surprised. Ever since his fifth year, Harry had to be escorted by a teacher or a Prefect whenever he went out in public. Since Hermione was a Prefect, she always did the job. Before his death, Hagrid accompanied them, and once Minerva did too. But it had never been me, for obvious reasons.  
  
"Why me?" I frowned.  
  
"Minerva is busy. I reckon that since your animosity has dispersed, it will not be much trouble for both of you."  
  
"How about Granger?"  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "Harry will not go to Hogsmeade this weekend, actually. He wants to visit Cho Chang's grave. Yesterday he came to ask for my permission. He actually begged me to let him go alone, but I cannot do that. He is too much at risk. I offered to him to choose his own chaperone and he chose you."  
  
"He chose me?" I asked in disbelief.  
  
"Yes, he did. Would you, Severus?"  
  
"All right," I said, still dazed. After all, I didn't see why not. And I felt inexplicably pleased that he had chosen me of all people in Hogwarts to accompany him.  
  
I wondered why.  
  
***********  
  
I asked him about it that night in our tutoring session.  
  
"Who else?" he asked back.  
  
"Who else? Very keen observation, Harry. Do you think I am the only teacher at Hogwarts? Or the only Prefects?" I said dryly.  
  
Harry shrugged. "Professor Dumbledore wouldn't let me go with Hermione. Too dangerous, he said. So I had to choose a teacher. I don't trust the others, so..."  
  
"You don't trust the other teachers?" I raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I do trust them. But not in things like this. I mean, for all I know I might break down there and do something stupid.like maybe crying my eyes out. Well, I don't want them to see me in such a condition. But if you mind, it's okay, Sir. I will choose someone else." His voice was getting softer and softer; he almost whispered his last sentence. "No, Harry," I said. "I don't mind. I am just curious about what has possessed you to ask for your cruelest, most hated teacher as your chaperone for this highly emotional journey."  
  
He looked at me. "I don't consider you my most hated teacher, Professor. Or the cruelest. In fact, I don't think you are cruel at all," he said matter- of-factly.  
  
"Oh? Even after all the injustices you've been subjected at my hand?"  
  
"So you admit that there are injustices?" He smiled. Cheeky brat, but he was correct.  
  
"You know my difficulties here. One kindness to a Gryffindor and I will jeopardize my position." Although it wasn't entirely true. I *had* been cruel to him deliberately during his first years. It was after the Triwizard Tournament that I began to see him in a different light, although my treatment to him in public hadn't changed.  
  
"I know," he said. "But did you really hate me back then?"  
  
"I've never hated you, Harry," I answered truthfully. I had never hated him, but I *did* resent him. And I was ashamed of myself for it.  
  
"But..?" he wanted to ask again. I raised my hand to stop him, not wanting to discuss this uncomfortable topic.  
  
"Enough talking, let's begin, shall we?"  
  
"All right," he opened his book.  
  
An hour later, I tested him. "So, what is the most powerful magic in the world?"  
  
He thought for a moment before answering. I had noticed that it was more difficult for him to form words in speech than in writing. Then he answered, "The most powerful magic in the world is the Cosmos magic, which belongs to the universe. This is the magic that sustains the planets, stars, and earth and her inhabitants." (The magical community refers to Earth as 'she', as in reference to a mother.)  
  
"So, what should we do to perform a truly powerful magical act?"  
  
"We must use the universe's power when we perform a magical act such as when we cast a spell. We must access its magic instead of our own and channel it for our spell."  
  
"Very good," I said. "Remember that even the most powerful of wizards or witches have their limits. But the universe is limitless, like ocean and sky. Do you understand?"  
  
He looked a little hesitant. "I guess so," he said.  
  
"You guess so?"  
  
"No. Yes. I mean, I understand, Sir," he answered rather haltingly.  
  
I smiled. "This concept is rather difficult to grasp if you only read the theory. You can only understand it fully when you perform it."  
  
"Perform it?"  
  
"Yes. And we will try it next week. Learn about this spell and I will show you how to conjure a fire using magic from the Earth as a start."  
  
His eyes widened. "You're going to teach me to use Cosmos magic, sir?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But. but."  
  
"Now you sound like Miss Granger," I said, annoyed. "I know it is forbidden to be taught to underage children, but experience has taught me that age has no correlation whatsoever with maturity and I deem you're more than mature to handle this kind of knowledge, Harry. Besides, you need it."  
  
He was speechless for God knew how long and I looked at his startled expression amusedly. I wonder if he was more surprised by the fact that I was going to teach him illegally, or that I had just bestowed on him the best compliment I had ever given.  
  
"Well." he stuttered. "Okay then." He looked away, rather embarrassed because of my amusement over his behavior.  
  
"See you Saturday morning then".  
  
"See you too, Sir," he said. "And take care," he added softly before leaving the room hastily, leaving me befuddled and warmed.  
  
*************** 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
The graveyard was five miles away from Hogsmeade. I had decided to use my horse and carriage. I was not in the mood for walking for hours with a depressed boy in this windy weather. Besides, Harry might not be able to walk back to Hogwarts after his visit. I had seen him breaking down and I could guess how deep was his love for Cho Chang. Chances were that this would not be the last time he would encounter loss and grief. I pitied him.  
  
"You've rejoined the Quidditch team," I said to the boy, wanting to distract him from his grim thought.  
  
He nodded. "Madam Hooch wouldn't allow me to fly at first. But then Ron quickly said that I was fine and wouldn't be distracted. Professor McGonagall supported Ron's opinion too."  
  
"Of course," I snorted. "She won't let Gryffindor lose the Quidditch Cup at any price."  
  
"She's not like that," Harry replied, with slight indignation. "She did it because she wanted me to be happy again."  
  
I snorted again. "You are so naïve, Harry. Stern and fair though she is in her class, in reality she is not above House rivalry."  
  
"I know she's not above House rivalry," Harry smiled wanly. "She always reminds us not to lose the Cup, and she bent the rule by giving me a Nimbus 2000 in my first year. But I don't think she will allow me to fly if I am really distracted, though."  
  
My lips quirked into a sinister smile. "Of course she will not allow you to fly if you can't win her that bloody Cup."  
  
Harry looked at me, surprised. "Do you really think so low of Professor McGonagall?"  
  
I sighed. That statement was not fair. Minerva didn't deserve it. "I was just being sarcastic."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Although I must admit that. the statement I made about your Head of House is most . injudicious."  
  
He looked at me. An unspoken 'indeed'.  
  
His gesture reminded me of my previous statement to Dumbledore: The boy's maturity is not far beneath mine. Being honest with oneself is unpleasant indeed.  
  
********  
  
The nearer we were to the graveyard, the more subdued Harry became. I didn't know if it was cause by his apprehension to go to a place where he would be reminded of his fourth year event, or if he was remembering his deceased lover. I didn't dare to ask him, though. I thought it was better to give him some time alone to sort out his feeling. But I did warn him when we were only a mile away from our destination.  
  
The graveyard keeper, an unpleasant Squib who could pass as Filch's twin brother, approached us and asked us what we wanted, clearly displeased at our visit. I told him that we wanted to visit Cho Chang's grave, all the while glaring at him, daring him to stop us. Wisely, he didn't. I asked him the direction and he pointed it to me curtly.  
  
"Do you want to go there alone, Harry?" I asked the boy who had not raised his head since we entered this gloomy graveyard. He nodded. I saw a droplet of liquid fell to his hands.  
  
"I will be waiting at the carriage," I told him, more softly this time.  
  
He nodded and walked away slowly to find Cho Chang's grave.  
  
***********  
  
I played with Shadow's - my horse - mane absent mindedly while waiting for Harry to return. I had a lot to think about. The most crucial of all was Draco.  
  
I didn't know how he had planned to slip the poison for Harry to drink. Harry was not stupid enough to receive any drink or food from Draco, or any Slytherin. Besides, if he had seen the scene with Voldemort yesterday, didn't he already know that Voldemort wanted Draco to poison him? I made note to myself to ask him about this later, and also to warn him about the poisoning attempt. Albus would also alert the House Elves and the staff about this matter.  
  
How about Draco himself? What could I do to prevent him from attempting this appalling act? I shook my head inwardly. I didn't understand why Voldemort asked Draco, Draco of all people, to carry out this plan. I mean, that blasted Red Eyes had once warned Lucius to educate his son more sternly so that his spoiled son wouldn't turn out worse than the Weasleys, or Salazar forbid, Longbottom's spawn. In other words, Voldemort knew that Draco wasn't dependable enough for this important mission.  
  
What was the hidden agenda here? Or was Draco only a distraction? And Voldemort had secretly chosen another person in Hogwarts for this mission? Someone who wouldn't be suspected? Or was Voldemort trying to set me into a trap? If the mission failed then I must have contacted Dumbledore or warned Harry. If it succeeded, he would kill two flies at once, a dead Potter and a proof that I was loyal to him.  
  
What could I do to prevent this and preserve my position as a spy? I suspected that the murder attempt would be carried out on the Halloween Feast this evening. It didn't leave me much time then. Not that I already had a plan anyway. I hoped Dumbledore could find a way out of this.  
  
Suddenly a cold wind blew, distracting me from my thoughts. I looked at my watch. It had been an hour. What on earth was Harry doing in the graveyard for an hour? I began to worry, but stopped myself from going after him. He needed to be alone.  
  
I sat back and returned to my brooding, which now had a different topic. I couldn't help but notice how different our relationship had become since I opened up to him. I often found a part of me screaming loudly of what had I done, telling *him*, my enemy's son, about my weaknesses, comforting him, tutoring him, *caring* for him, letting down my guard. Another part of me, who unsurprisingly sounded like my father, agreed full heartedly for my dutiful act in helping the hero of the Wizarding world.  
  
And there was this small voice inside of me, a weird voice that felt strangely familiar, which kept encouraging me to get closer to the boy.  
  
Closer to the boy. I had never thought that I would find the thought pleasantly. warming.  
  
**********  
  
About fifteen minutes later, I saw Harry coming out from the graveyard. His eyes were puffy and red, and his whole body was shaking. It didn't take a Trelawney to predict what had happened. I went to him, wrapping my cloak around him, and gently helped him onto the carriage. I could hear him sniffs once or twice, but didn't make any remarks about it.  
  
*********  
  
After we arrived at Hogsmeade, I stopped at Three Broomsticks to buy two bottles of Butterbeer which we drank on our way back to Hogwarts. The sun had set and no student was seen; for that I was grateful.  
  
I told him not to receive any kind of food from other students save from his closest friends.  
  
He nodded. "I've seen what Voldemort told Malfoy to do."  
  
"Yes, and Halloween is the best time if you want to poison someone."  
  
"Will he really do it though?"  
  
"Draco? I suspect so. He has no choice. Voldemort will surely punish him and his father severely if he fails."  
  
"Does he like what he's going to do?" Harry's voice was small when he asked that. Perhaps it was incomprehensible to him that such a young boy enjoyed killing a human being. He was thinking like a Gryffindor again.  
  
But I too, didn't know if Draco's fall to the dark side had extended to enjoying taking other people's lives.  
  
I sometimes wondered if I should stop spying and concentrate more on nurturing my students.  
  
"Thanks for the butterbeer," Harry said suddenly after emptying his bottle.  
  
"You're welcome," I replied.  
  
"This is. very kind of you, Sir," he said. "And today at the graveyard too. I mean. giving me space and all that."  
  
"You've never thought that I could be considerate before, have you?" My tone was neutral.  
  
"Well.," he sounded rather embarrassed. "I. I.," he stopped. I could picture his face flaming red.  
  
I smirked. "Don't worry, Harry. Such a widespread assumption is not entirely unfounded."  
  
"So is it true, that you're inconsiderate to other people?  
  
"I would certainly never deny such statement, not to others nor to myself."  
  
"But you were very kind and thoughtful with me today. And before today too, when you helped me dealing with my sadness. I don't think I would have made it without your help."  
  
"That, Harry, is merely my fierce dutifulness speaking. I didn't want you to break down and do something rash, and end up endangering yourself or others," I told him.  
  
"Oh." He sounded oddly disappointed.  
  
We didn't talk again after that. I had to focus on the slightly uneven road - falling into a hole on the road was not something I was looking forward to - though I really wanted to see his expression. I strangely felt disquiet at my admission of my motive to Harry. Partly because I was anxious to see how he would react. Another part of me was perturbed because somehow I suspected that the statement was not entirely true. Although I didn't usually analyze my feelings-a womanly activity for the drama queens- , now my brutal honesty had forced me to admit to myself that as time went by, my care for him was beyond a mere obligation.  
  
***********  
  
"We are going to be late for Halloween Feast," I said, looking at my watch. "I'll try to be quick, but we will still be late for at least half an hour."  
  
From the corner of my eye, I could see his brows frowning. I ignored him. Later, I took a glance at his expression and he was still frowning. Annoyed, I snapped, "I know that missing such an important event is very upsetting for you, but I am sure that sneaking into the kitchen is not an activity you seldom do, so stop giving me that hurt look."  
  
He looked at me, startled. "That's not what I am thinking about, Sir." He sounded very offended. "I am thinking of a way to avoid the poisoning thing."  
  
"So? Care to share that brilliant plan of yours?"  
  
He answered, "You can change Draco's poison with something else that looks like the poison right?"  
  
"Oh yes, *of course* Dumbledore and I haven't thought about such a brilliant plan! And how, pray tell, are they going to believe that I, the only person in this school save Draco who knows about this plan, have nothing to do with it," I said sarcastically. Old habits die hard.  
  
"Are you sure you're the only person other than Draco that knows about this plan? I mean, Draco must need help, right?"  
  
"Crabbe and Goyle? I don't think Draco or Lucius will tell them anything about such a serious matter."  
  
"How about Blaise?" he smiled slyly.  
  
To say that I was surprised in an understatement. How on Earth did this boy know that Zabini, the most discreet spy I'd ever encountered, had any connection with Voldemort?  
  
He chuckled. "It isn't me actually, it's Hermione and Ron. You know that I've been pretty distracted these last few weeks so it wasn't me who noticed Blaise."  
  
I raised my eyebrow in silent question.  
  
Familiar with my expression, he answered, "Hermione, Ron, and I know that you're a spy. Or at least that you're spying for us after Dumbledore told you to do something in the end of our Fourth year. Remember that?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Snuffles, I mean Sirius, knows that we know, so he saw no harm in telling us that you're being watched closely by Voldemort. He said there must be a spy in Hogwarts that Voldemort placed to keep an eye on you. He told us to find out who the spy was."  
  
"How thoughtful of him!" I said as cynically as I could.  
  
Harry smiled wanly, "Oh, he just didn't want us to lose a useful spy. Besides, there's no telling that the spy won't try to harm us too."  
  
"True." I nodded.  
  
"So, we sneaked here and there, sometimes went into the Slytherin dorm with my Invisibility cloak and watched the suspects closely."  
  
"You. you.. went into Slytherin's dorm? How? How do you know the password?" I spluttered. These brats' sneakiness was really astounding!  
  
"Ron and I impersonated Crabbe and Goyle with Polyjuice Potion and went with Draco once. After we heard the password, we sneaked there with the cloak."  
  
I almost fainted.  
  
He laughed. "Don't worry, Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall know. They knew that it was necessary. McGonagall just told us to be careful."  
  
I didn't know what to do or think anymore. The fact that Dumbledore and McGonagall (McGonagall!) knew and even encouraged this behavior was truly beyond my capacity to understand, and tolerate. I would have a nice long chat with those two after I return.  
  
"Okay, back to the topic," Harry said brightly. He seemed pleased to see me taken off guard and speechless. (Of course, I thought, who would not be pleased seeing the greasy bastard speechless?) "Hermione and Ron still kept an eye on the suspects when I was too distracted to do so, and they found out that the spy was Blaise. We told Professor Dumbledore but he said that you already know."  
  
I didn't say anything. He continued, "Anyway, here is my plan. I will replace the poison with other potions and place the poison among Blaise's things. That way, we can spread distrust among them. To avoid you being suspected, I suggest you attend the Feast while I look for the poison and replace it."  
  
"But if you are absent, they will suspect you."  
  
"Don't worry. Just tell everyone that I haven't come back from my visit to the graveyard."  
  
"That. that is pretty. Slytherin of you," I stuttered, again. "But how will you enter Hogwarts unnoticed? You don't bring the cloak with you, do you?"  
  
"No, but I can sneak into Hogwarts and go out without being seen, then I will re-enter Hogwarts from the Great Hall."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Let's just say that Padfoot, Moony, and Prongs have taught me well," Harry says secretively.  
  
Padfoot, Moony, and Prongs. Wait a minute. Weren't those the names in that infuriating piece of parchment? I narrowed my eyes and asked him that.  
  
He laughed and said that he had been sworn to secrecy and that his godfather would kill him if he leaked it to me.  
  
I scowled but didn't give in. "Harry, don't make jokes on such an important matter!"  
  
"Okay, okay. There is a secret passage from Honeydukes to Hogwarts."  
  
"Secret passage? How do you know that?" My scowl deepened.  
  
"Sirius told me," he answered, but I could detect a hint that he had lied.  
  
"Don't lie to me, Harry," I hissed.  
  
"I am not!"  
  
"Harry."  
  
"Okay. Fine! It is in the Marauders Map, okay? The Hogwarts map that my dad made."  
  
"Is that the map that Barty Crouch Jr. stole?" I asked. He swallowed and nodded, apparently unhappy remembering his Fourth year event.  
  
"Good." I said. "Now listen to me. You are not going to change the potion. I will."  
  
"But."  
  
I raised a hand to stop his objection. "No, buts. You don't know what the poison looks like or what to do with it. This is what you're going to do. You're going to return to Hogwarts and make a grand entrance in the Great Hall. Spread the news that there is an accident with a carriage and I was left behind to levitate it back. Then join the Feast and do nothing unusual. Now show me the secret passage."  
  
Harry looked displeased, but I was not moved. I broke one of the wheels so that if anyone checked the carriage, they would believe that there had been an accident. "Can you ride a horse?" I asked.  
  
He shook his head. I sighed. This was going to be difficult. "Okay then, we both sneak into Hogwarts. You will take your broom and fly out of the window with your invisibility cloak and hid your broom. Then go into the Great Hall with a flourish, get it?"  
  
"But you need the cloak."  
  
"I can be invisible without a cloak, Harry."  
  
"Like Dumbledore," he said in awe.  
  
I chuckled. "No, not as good as he, but I believe I know Slytherin's dungeon better than you, including the secret passages I am sure you're not aware of."  
  
"There are secret passages in the Slytherin's dungeon?"  
  
"Yes, yes. But only the Heads of House and the Headmasters know. I bet even your father didn't know about them. Now, we have wasted too much time."  
  
We hid the carriage in a cave near Hogsmeade. I knew that Black often used this place to hide; Dumbledore told me after he had been sure that I would not misuse the information. We then crept slowly to Honeydukes whose owners had gone upstairs. I felt like a foolish teenager again, sneaking like this. Harry opened the door with a strange spell I couldn't recall and the door relocked after we were in. We entered the dark passage and I lit my wand.  
  
"What is that spell?"  
  
"What spell?"  
  
"That Aloha-something. It's certainly different from what I know."  
  
"Oh, that's a spell improved by Hermione to open a warded and locked door. Last year she improved the unlocking spell so that we can detect if there is any alarm and turn it off. Moreover, we can relock the door so that no one knows it has been opened."  
  
Oh. OH. *That's* how they could sneak everywhere anytime so easily. I must admit Granger had gained my respect, though very grudgingly.  
  
"How did you do it?" I asked. The spell would be very useful for me.  
  
He taught me.  
  
I, Severus Snape, was being taught by Harry Potter a spell invented by a Muggleborn witch. Moreover, I was just about to commit the plan that was formed by him. The world was coming to an end.  
  
**********************  
  
After we went out from the passage, he went to his dorm while I walked stealthily to Slytherin's dorm. I searched carefully and found the vial of poison quickly inside Draco's travel case. The unlocking spell was very useful indeed. The poison was sky blue, thick, and scentless. The seal had not been broken yet, that means, Draco hadn't known what the poison looked like and hadn't tried to poison Harry yet.  
  
I brought the vial to my office and replaced it with a potion that would cause the drinker to suffer a loss of his magic for a day. I put the poison into a vial that only could be opened by someone with great magical power, greater than magic possessed by any students in Slytherin dorms, so that no one could accidentally drink it. Then I hid the vial in Blaise's travel case, wrapped in black cloth so that even Blaise would not notice it unless someone was especially looking for it. The person would be Dumbledore, who would search for this potion when Harry suddenly lost his magic. That means, I had to ensure Draco's attempt to put something into Harry's food would succeed. And my assistance to Draco would surely guarantee that I was loyal to Voldemort.  
  
Although I too contributed in perfecting the plan, but I couldn't believe that a teenage boy could come up with such a plan in first place! No wonder that he always survived through all the madness he had put himself in. The Sorting Hat was wrong, Harry should be placed in my House instead of in Gryffindor. Besides, Gryffindors usually died young.  
  
*******************  
  
(tbc) 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
There is something inherently wrong in believing that a seventeen-year-old can save the world. One of the reasons is that the boy is less likely to get the proper preparation that he needs in order to defeat a Dark Lord, who has at least ten times his power. I had known that my idea to teach him to use Cosmos magic would not be welcomed with too much enthusiasm from most people, his Head of House included.  
  
"You will what!?" Minerva looked at me incredulously. We were in Albus' office, discussing about the Order and the students when I told her about my plan for Harry's lesson. Her reaction to my announcement was, to put it mildly, unenthusiastic.  
  
"I said I would teach Harry to use Cosmos magic."  
  
"Have you gone mad, Severus? The boy is only seventeen years old! It's illegal, not to mention dangerous."  
  
"A seventeen-year-old who has escaped from Voldemort's wrath at least thrice, Minerva, and have you forgotten that he must kill that blasted Dark Lord? How can he manage to do just that if he is only allowed to use his own magic? Transfigure a stick into a sword?" I sneered.  
  
"He is already a powerful wizard, Severus," Minerva said indignantly.  
  
"Not powerful enough. Even if he's as strong as Albus, he still doesn't have a chance." My patience was waning. I had never liked explaining my actions to others, and this time was no different.  
  
Albus seemed to notice my disquiet for he raised his hand to stop our heated argument. "Minerva, we all know that such powerful knowledge should not be taught to young wizards, but these are not ordinary circumstances. Harry will need every kind of help he can get."  
  
"But Albus.," she objected.  
  
"Enough. Severus is right, without knowing how to use Cosmos magic, Harry doesn't stand a chance against Voldemort. Moreover, this lesson will allow him to use magic undetected. You know that the Ministry have been watching Harry closely, desperate to find something to discredit him."  
  
"If you say so. I'll inform his guardian then," said Minerva, still displeased with Albus' decision.  
  
"I will take care of Sirius," Albus said tiredly.  
  
"I don't see why that mutt should be told about Harry's education. He will only hinder Harry's progress because of his irrational dislike for me." I said.  
  
Albus looked at me meaningfully. "Kindly give the man who has saved you twice some credit, Severus. And do you honestly think Harry will not tell him if we don't notify him first? If he knows that Harry's lesson is under my supervision and recommendation, he will less likely to interfere."  
  
I knew that Albus was right, had Black known from Harry and demanded the lesson to be stopped, I could not do anything but to give in. I truly resented Black even more for having this kind of control in Harry's life. That stupid mangy mutt! He was no good for Harry.  
  
I turned and saw Minerva was scowling at me. I narrowed my eyes. "You said Harry was too young to learn Cosmos magic, but you gave him and his friends permission to play spy in this school, sneak here and there, break rules, and endanger themselves. How can you explain that?"  
  
Minerva looked at me angrily. "Do you think I have a choice, Severus? Do you think they will stop their activities if I forbid them?"  
  
"It only shows that you cannot control your own students."  
  
"You." She gripped her chairs tightly in her anger; her face was flushed.  
  
"Stop this!" Albus intervened. "Severus, Minerva, you are colleagues and professors in this school, I expect better behavior from both of you." He looked at us sternly. "I know that you both have Harry's best interest at heart but he will not benefit from your continuous disagreement. That is why it's better to leave it to Harry and Sirius to decide is best for him." Hearing Black's name, I clenched my fists involuntary. I knew Albus would be angry if I kept displaying my dislike toward the mutt so I chose to be silent. Albus added, "Besides, they have proven themselves to be reliable and skilled beyond their age many times before."  
  
"As long as you ensure Harry's safety, Albus," I said. "You're the only one I trust with Harry."  
  
Minerva looked like she was about to explode at my words, but Albus once again raised his hand to stop her outburst. "Severus, Minerva, I trust *both* of you. I trust *Sirius Black*. And I trust Harry himself. If you trust me, then you must also trust them. No more arguments. Are we all clear on this matter?" The tone of his voice left no room for objection.  
  
Minerva and I looked at each other. Although we respected each other as colleagues, we were never friends. Though if Albus told us to cooperate, we could not do anything but concede.  
  
"Fine," she said; her tone clearly indicated that I would be sorry should I do anything that would harm her golden boy.  
  
I didn't respond to that.  
  
**************  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, please stay behind."  
  
Draco nodded. I waited after the other students had left the class, and I locked the room.  
  
"I trust that your father has informed you regarding your assignment?"  
  
"Which assignment, Sir?" he asked, pretending to be oblivious but failed miserably. He had never been a good actor, even a Weasley could act better than him. Brat!  
  
"You know what I mean, Draco," I said rather sternly. "Our Lord had assigned you an important mission and I don't want to see you fail."  
  
"Thank you for your concern, Professor, but I won't fail." He looked so sure of himself.  
  
I raised an eyebrow. "So confident, Draco. But how, pray tell, do you plan to carry out your mission? Care to share?"  
  
He looked nervous, like he had been caught not doing his homework. "Er."  
  
I narrowed my eyes to make me look more ominious. "Don't tell me you haven't come up with anything, Draco. You know what is at stake should you fail this mission: your life, Draco, as well as your family's."  
  
"I am sorry, Professor." His smugness was gone, replaced by fear and anxiety. "I. I tried, really, but."  
  
"Say no more. I know that it is difficult, even for your father, to carry out this mission, let alone such a child like you. It is impossible to administer that poison to Potter all by yourself now, especially since the House Elves were ordered not to let anyone enter kitchen but the Headmaster himself."  
  
His eyes were wide in fear. "What. what should I do now?"  
  
I smirked. "I am going to help you, Draco."  
  
"Help me? How? Why?" he asked disbelievingly.  
  
"I will explain the "how" later. And as for why, suffice it to say that I feel the need to gain our Lord's favor again. That is why I'd *truly* appreciate it if you mention my contribution in this mission to him," I said threateningly.  
  
"Oh." That reason was easy to understand, and very common among Voldemort's rank. Death Eater had no loyalty among themselves. They helped or destroyed each other for only one purpose: to gain the Dark Lord's favor. Voldemort noticed that, of course, and secretly supported such competition in order to screen the best of the Death Eaters. That was why I didn't suspect that that rat could be a Death Eater for he had no prominent ability whatsoever, as opposed to Black, the first rank Auror at that time.  
  
"Good boy. Now sit and I'll tell you about the plan."  
  
****************  
  
The day after my meeting with Draco, I went to see Albus again. Thankfully, Minerva wasn't there. He offered me some sweets, which I politely declined and asked me about Draco.  
  
"What is the plan exactly, Severus?"  
  
"The plan is simple. I will help Draco to steal Harry's Sugar Quill when I have a chance and dip it into the poison. Then I will return the quill to Harry unnoticed."  
  
"I see," said Albus. He looked so tired and worn out these days, his shoulders were slumped and his eyes had lost their twinkle.  
  
"Are you all right, Albus?" I asked. He dismissed my concern with a wave of his hand.  
  
"You should see a healer," I added.  
  
"I'm fine. I am just a little tired."  
  
"At least let Madam Pomfrey check on you."  
  
"I will, Severus." He smiled reassuringly. "Do you have something else to tell me?"  
  
"In fact I do," I said, remembering about Voldemort's order to find out about Lupin and Black's whereabouts. I shivered involuntary as I remembered Voldemort's threat to me.  
  
"Anything wrong, Severus?" Albus asked, noticing my uneasiness.  
  
"Voldemort threatened that he would punish me severely if I couldn't get him the information about Lupin and Black's position within a month, Albus. I tried to dodge it by saying that you didn't trust me anymore, but he didn't care. He was - is- angry because I haven't given him any satisfactory information for a long time."  
  
"And if he knows you give him false information he will surely kill you," added Albus.  
  
"I know he will, Albus. I saw what he did to Igor. I.," I stopped myself on time. Close though I was to Albus, I didn't like showing my weaknesses to anyone, including to him. I did not want to admit that I was afraid. Yes, I was very afraid. I shuddered inwardly remembering Igor's pitiful scream and the burst of flame which consumed his heart from within.  
  
"Do you have any solutions?" he asked.  
  
I shook my head and looked at my cup, avoiding Albus' penetrating gaze.  
  
No one spoke for some time. I raised my eyes and saw Albus was thinking hard. He sipped his tea absent mindedly and popped a lemon drop into his mouth. It would have been funny if the situation was not so dire and I was not so anxious. I was always aware of the risk I was taking by being a spy, but I had never realized until that night to what extent the danger was. I truly didn't know what I would do should I come face to face with such a fate. Would I betray Albus and the Order? Would I betray Harry? One thing was for certain, I wouldn't have enough courage to face whatever Voldemort had in store for me. At the least I would bite my tongue to kill myself. I hoped it would never come to that, though.  
  
"Hm. perhaps this will work though I don't know for how long." He took another lemon drop and ate it before answering. "Tell him that Sirius and Remus are in Hogwarts."  
  
"What? But he certainly won't buy it. Besides, he can easily order someone to check the truth." Why didn't we just let that blasted Dark Lord know where those mutts were? I thought. It wasn't as if losing them would be devastating to the Order for their role had not been significant, at least not as significant as mine. My Slytherin self frantically looked for escape. Perhaps because Albus valued their lives more than mine, I thought bitterly. No, stop that kind of thinking, Severus, I berated myself. Albus had always respected me and cared for me, more than anyone ever did.  
  
Albus looked at me searchingly, seemed to notice my lack of faith in him. He replied, "No. He knows that there are many secret rooms in Hogwarts that most people aren't aware of. So it is possible that I keep them somewhere here. Tell him that you suspect they are injured because Madam Pomfrey keeps disappearing and you're being asked to make more healing potions than usual."  
  
"Then he will ask me to poison them."  
  
"That might not be the case, we don't know if he plans to kill them or just to disable them. Just tell him that they are both so badly injured that they won't be able to return to the field for at least half a year or so. Tell them that the Giants or a pack of werewolves have injured them, it doesn't matter."  
  
"And if he indeed wants me to poison them?"  
  
"We will see to that if the problem arises," Albus said tiredly. He sighed deeply and leaned into his chair.  
  
"You should rest, Albus," I told him. I felt guilty now for doubting him.  
  
"I will. Don't worry about me, Severus. Just bring me some of your potions. You know which ones."  
  
"I will."  
  
I left his office glumly, concerned for his health. He was even more important than Harry, I realized. For he was the source of our strength, our plan, and our hope. Harry might be the banner which must not fall, but Albus was our King, our General in this war. I couldn't imagine what would happen if he was gone.  
  
I dismissed the bleak thought quickly. No, he must not die. He had survived like a Slytherin for more than a hundred years and he would continue to do so.  
  
**************  
  
My mood didn't improved until Harry's lesson. He instinctively knew that and didn't try to engage me into conversation as we usually did before the class began. Perceptive boy.  
  
"Again." I scowled. He had tried as hard as possible to conjure a fire without his wand, but constantly failed. I knew it was a very hard lesson and his difficulty was understandable. Yet, because of my dark mood, I treated him a lot more sternly than usually.  
  
His face was contorted in concentration as he muttered the spell, "Aduro."  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
He looked more desperate. He shouted harder, "Aduro! Aduro!"  
  
"In case I haven't told you, Mr. Potter. It is *not* the volume of your voice that will make the spell work. Again!"  
  
He shouted in frustration. "Aduro!"  
  
I looked at him. "I have never seen such a puny attempt. Again!"  
  
"ADURO!" Harry shouted one more time in anger. A great flame appeared in front of him and flickered for few second before it died. Then he fainted.  
  
**************  
  
"How many times have I told you, Cosmos magic is different from the ordinary magic you've been learning."  
  
"But it worked, didn't it?" he asked, wrapping the blanket around his body tighter. I had lifted him to the sofa when he fainted and draped a thick blanket around him. I handed him a cup of hot chocolate which he accepted gratefully. "Thanks."  
  
"You're welcome," I said curtly, still unhappy with his failed attempts, though I knew that it wasn't fair to expect him to succeed so quickly. "You are supposed to use Cosmos' power instead of your own. If you have succeeded, you wouldn't have fainted."  
  
"But. but I didn't use my wand. How come I've used my own power?"  
  
"A wand's function is to focus and amplify your magic. Without a wand, you can still do magic, but it is a lot more difficult and taxing. The magic was weak and unfocused, that's why the flame died so quickly and you fainted."  
  
"Oh," he said. Seeing him like this, wrapped in a blanket, sipping the hot chocolate I had made for him, made my previous irritation at his failure disperse quickly. I sighed.  
  
"Maybe we better continue with the theory first," I said.  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Since you didn't bring your book here and I haven't prepared for theoretical lessons, we can only review what we have learned so far," I said, sitting in front of him. "Do you have any question?"  
  
"Um. why is it that the spells are different? Why we don't use Incendio instead of Aduro, for example? Isn't the same thing? To conjure a fire?"  
  
"Words are just an instrument to help you to activate your magic. It is like a trigger to a Muggle gun. When we say the spell out loud, we unleash our power and direct it to the object. Understand?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"We use different spells when using Cosmos magic to avoid getting confused with the spell we have previously learned. We perform our spell differently when using Cosmos magic and when using our own magic. It is a lot easier to use our own power than to draw the power from the Cosmos and direct it with our hand. Got it?"  
  
"Yes, sir," he said. "But why can't I do the Aduro spell tonight? I swear I used Cosmos magic."  
  
I scowled. "Don't swear pointlessly."  
  
"I am sorry, Sir."  
  
"You've known that words can trigger something powerful, so be careful of what you're saying."  
  
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." He bowed his head a little. A faint pink appeared on his cheeks, making me smile despite myself.  
  
"Just don't do it again," I said. "About your practical lesson, you just need more practice and direction. Here, let me show you." I muttered the spell and a flame appeared in front of us, hovering in the air; its flame danced leisurely.  
  
"Wow," he said, rather awestruck, then frowned. "It looks very easy."  
  
"It only *looks* like it's easy, Harry, but it is not. It took me two weeks before I could conjure a fire. The key is how to draw the power from the Earth and direct it with my hand instead of my wand. Here, touch my hand and feel how the power flows."  
  
He timidly touched my hand and wrapped his fingers around my wrist, feeling the power from the Earth I had drawn pooling at my wrist before I directed it to my palm.  
  
He was so warm, like the fire in his eyes. His touch, chaste though it was, sent a shiver down my spine and caused a strange feeling in my abdomen. His slightly calloused hand had ignited a fire within me, a fire that was not caused by Cosmos or the flame I had conjured. I felt as if my skin had been burned, and I wished for more.  
  
"Aduro," I muttered the spell shakily. A great flame appeared.  
  
"Now you try it," I said, hastily shaking his hands off before I completely lost control.  
  
It only took few more trials until he succeed. I was very pleased with him and told him so. He flushed even more and he bid me goodnight.  
  
I put off the flames we had conjured and my chamber returned to its dark, cold state. Strangely, I felt the skin of my wrist kept burning throughout the night. I rubbed my wrist and tried to sleep.  
  
That night, I dreamed of calloused fingers stroking my hands, erasing the abomination that had been inflicted on my skin and soul.  
  
But when I awoke, it was still there.  
  
****************** 


	7. Author's note: Where to find update when...

Author's note:  
  
Because FF.net is unreliable, I post this fic elsewhere too:  
  
My Livejournal: e: 


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
  
Our plan went surprisingly well. I took Harry's Sugar Quill in a Potions Class and slipped it to Draco, who dipped it into the vial and gave it back to me. Then I told Draco that I sneaked into Gryffindor Tower using the secret passages known only to the Heads of Houses and put it back into his bag. The truth was I gave it directly to Harry in his private Cosmos magic lesson, who ate the sweet in front of me and fainted. It frightened me half to death because the potion I replaced wasn't supposed to have this side effect.  
  
Then his lips twitched.  
  
I gave him a mountainous amount of homework for that. Of course, it didn't stop him from giggling at my annoyed expression.  
  
I scowled. "You'll be the death of me, impudent brat."  
  
"Sorry, Sir," he said, trying to suppress his mirth but failing miserably.  
  
I sighed. "Never mind." I waved my hand dismissively. "Do you know there's a change in the plan?"  
  
"What change?" he asked, putting back his books to his bag and transformed back the pincushions into hedgehogs. He was truly a bright boy, much brighter than his father. Or me.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore told me that it was better if you pretended to lose all your magic because of the 'poisoning', in hope that Voldemort would lose interest in you for a while. It would give us some chance to prepare you for the upcoming confrontation."  
  
"Lose interest? In me?" Harry snorted. "I don't think so."  
  
"At least that will give him the illusion that you're powerless, so that we may surprise him at the right time, or it will make him lower his guard, thinking that the he has won."  
  
Harry frowned, digesting the logic of the plan. "I think so.," he said. "But if I am a Squib, I can't stay at Hogwarts anymore!"  
  
"Smart boy." I smiled.  
  
"But. but.," he stuttered in panic. Everyone knew Hogwarts was the only home for him, and thus the idea of being away from this place would cause him great misery. Or perhaps he thought that we would send him to his relatives again.  
  
"Calm down, idiot boy," I soothed him. "We're not sending you away, not really."  
  
"But."  
  
I scowled. "Listen to the plan first, Harry, before you start accusing us of neglecting you or inflicting more burden to you."  
  
He took a deep breath and calmed down. A bit. "Okay. Sorry, Sir. It's just that.. Hogwarts is my home."  
  
"I know that. So does Professor Dumbledore. Now, sit down and listen to me."  
  
He sat.  
  
"You will stay and help the new groundskeeper at Hagrid's hut. A few days a week, you'll secretly have private tutorials with me about Cosmos magic," I explained. He exhaled in relief. He looked so endearing that way. I smiled.  
  
"You said I'd stay with the new groundskeeper. Who is he? I thought that Professor Dumbledore hadn't found a replacement for Hagrid."  
  
My smile faltered. "You will know soon," I said curtly. "The lesson is over, you may go back to your room."  
  
He was surprised by my sudden change of demeanor. "Did I say something wrong, Sir?" he said, observing me curiously. However, I didn't care to enlighten him further.  
  
"I said, go back to you room," I snapped, glaring at him.  
  
He looked hurt, making me feel a momentary pang of guilt for my action. He took his bag and the hedgehogs quickly and left the room, stomping the floor as he went out and closed the door none too gently. Bad-mannered boy! I didn't blame him for his recent attitude, though. I blamed it to the new groundskeeper, who was not coincidentally the brat's godfather.  
  
Damn you, Sirius Black, for always ruining every good thing in my life.  
  
*****************  
  
Indeed, the new groundskeeper was Sirius Black under a glamourie spell, thanks to the intervention of Albus Dumbledore. His new identity was "Stubby" - what a ridiculous name! - and he would stay in Hagrid's hut as the new groundskeeper and teacher of the Care of Magical Creature.  
  
I actually didn't mind him being the new groundskeeper and teacher for the Care of Magical Creature -- what a fitting job for a mongrel like him! It was the thought that Harry would live with him which infuriated me to no end! The idiotic, reckless, impulsive Gryffindor had no business of caring Harry. I had tried to discourage Albus from the idea, reasoning that it was Harry who would take care of his dogfather and not vice versa. Of course, the stubborn old man insisted, saying that there was no better option. Who else could be the new groundskeeper? Mundungus Fletcher? No one in their right mind would entrust a flobberworm to his care, let alone the savior of the Wizarding World. Remus Lupin was surely out of the question as the parents would not agree. Besides, Dumbledore wanted the mongrel to teach Harry to become an Animagus and proper Defense Against the Dark Arts. True that Bill Weasley, this year's DADA professor, had been a competent teacher but he could not teach some 'darker' magic or more complicated spell for fear of Ministry's or the parents' disapproval.  
  
Besides, who could change Albus' mind if he had made his decision?  
  
I drank the last mouthful of my favorite Scotch, though the damned concoction could not assuage my resentment.  
  
Harry would no doubt be *ecstatic* when he learned the truth. Ecstatic! For living with the likes of Sirius Black. Hah. I threw the empty Scotch bottle to the wall, listening with satisfaction the sound of shattering glass. "Reparo!" I yelled impatiently. "Accio bottle." I summoned the bottle only to slam the poor thing to the floor again.  
  
***********************  
  
Harry must have gone to Albus to satisfy his curiosity because he was practically *glowing* with joy when I saw him at breakfast. To most people, he looked solemn and subdued, for hadn't he just lost his magic? But I was not most people. And the brat had the nerve to wink at me conspiringly. I scowled at him but it seemed that he didn't notice. Or didn't care.  
  
His cheek made me even harsher to him in Potions class that day. I sneered and taunted him for his "loss" of magic. "A groundskeeper's assistant," I smirked. "What a fitting job for James Potter's son."  
  
Draco and his cronies laughed. All the Gryffindors, even the coward Neville Longbottom, was livid. They looked at me as if they wanted to Crucio me with their eyes. He, too, looked at me with pure anger in his fiery green eyes, which I assumed ignited for my mention of his father.  
  
"Detention tonight, Mr. Potter."  
  
"For what?" He looked at me challengingly.  
  
"For being a Squib."  
  
"But that's not fair!"  
  
"Who said that life is fair?" I said casually.  
  
He stormed out of the class, but not before reminding me that I could not deduct points from Gryffindor since he was no longer a student at Hogwarts. That, of course, didn't deter me for doing so. "Twenty points from Gryffindor," I yelled maliciously right when he opened the door. "For producing such incompetent fools, such as you and our new groundskeeper." He turned and glared at me, but didn't talk back for fear that Gryffindor would lose more points; that stupid boy's loyalty to his House could not be deterred by something as simple as being "expelled" from this school. Then he walked out and slammed the door as hard as he could.  
  
*********************  
  
By the time Harry arrived for detention, my infuriating conscience reminded me that I had behaved childishly and irrationally. Of course it was not his fault if he was happy to live with the mongrel; it had been his dream ever since his third year! That voice too, conveniently reminded me that it was because of my interference that his dream couldn't come true, at least until now. Perhaps I was just reflecting my hatred of Black to him, just like I used to despise him for his father's sin, that irritating little voice in me said. "But that's not fair!" The echo of his protest returned to me in full force, along with the anger and hurt in his eyes. I had the most unusual wish to apologize, which my pride squashed swiftly.  
  
There was a knock on the door, probably him.  
  
"Come in," I ordered.  
  
He came in. "What must I do tonight, *Sir*?" he said; his voice was laced with suppressed anger.  
  
"Clean the cauldrons and chop the flobberworms on the table," I told him, not raising my eyes from the stack of the dull-witted fools that were the 1st year Hufflepuffs.  
  
He did his job without saying anything. I glanced at him from time to time, seeing his sour expression as he scrubbed the cauldrons powerfully, fueled by his anger and annoyance toward me no doubt.  
  
He had finished washing the cauldrons and was chopping the flobberworms when he spoke up. "You know, for some time I thought that I had been wrong about you, Sir. That you're actually a kind and decent human being who has no choice but to act like a git to preserve your position as a spy. Today though, I think I must change my opinion again."  
  
My anger rose at his audacious words. "Potter.," I growled.  
  
"I even thought you were my friend," he said, ignoring my warning.  
  
"You."  
  
"Apparently, I was wrong," he said again, half throwing the last piece of flobberworms to a jar, finishing his task. "Too bad, I even began to like you, you know." He washed his hand at the sink swiftly and walked toward the door, as if he wanted to free himself from my unpleasant presence as quickly as possible, in contrary of his habit to prolong our meetings as long as he could.  
  
The thought hurt me more than I care to admit. "Did I say you can leave?" I snarled.  
  
"No, but I don't have to listen to you. I am not a Hogwarts student anymore, remember?" he replied angrily. "I am a bloody Squib right now."  
  
"You know it's not true!"  
  
"I bet you wish it were. Because I am James Potter's son and Sirius Black's godson," he yelled back.  
  
"Of course I don't wish you are a Squib just because you're Potter's son! How dare you make such a offensive assumption about me! You know nothing about me. Nothing."  
  
"I know you hate my father! And Sirius too!"  
  
"Of course I hate those twats, but that is none of your business."  
  
"It is. James Potter is my father and Sirius my godfather," he said heatedly.  
  
"Fine. Then let me tell you something, you deluded boy. You father and godfather are no more than conceited foolish bastards!"  
  
He was furious beyond words. He took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes. "Be careful, Snape. They are my *family* you're speaking of."  
  
I smirked. "Ah yes, and that is something to be proud of how exactly?"  
  
"At least I have a father and a godfather who love me," he retorted. "Unlike some people."  
  
Before neither of us realized what had happened, there was a loud smacking noise. I saw him holding his burning cheek while my palm was throbbing painfully.  
  
"Harry." I whispered in shock at what I had done. "I., I.,"  
  
He ran out of my office.  
  
********************  
  
I had never seen Harry again since the day I struck him. He had moved to Hagrid's hut with Black and never entered the castle ever since, probably because the students either mocked him or saw him with unmistakable pity in their eyes. Or not, because Harry always ignored them, for obvious reason. Perhaps he didn't enter the castle to avoid me, which was confirmed by his absent to his Cosmos magic lesson. Albus had advised me to let him be for at least a month before confronting him about it, telling me that perhaps Harry needed time to adjust to his current situation. I, as always, grudgingly obeyed.  
  
To my further dismay, I unexpectedly found that instead of enjoying the extra free time I had, I sorely missed his bright presence in my cold dungeon. For the past few months, his tutorial had become something I looked forward to. But now. Even if the tutorial would be continued, I was not entirely sure that the friendly and comfortable atmosphere we had established would return.  
  
Now whose fault is that, my conscience nagged me again though this time I failed to squash it. It had been a long time since I heard my conscience properly; about twenty years or so since I started to spy. If it had happened three months ago, I would have dismissed it without a second thought. But my relationship with Harry had changed, we were friends, and it was true what he had said that my treatment to him was dreadfully unfair.  
  
Should I apologize to him?  
  
"A Snape doesn't apologize," my father had said. And I didn't. Not even to Albus when I repented from my action as a Death Eaters years ago; the words weren't necessary for the wise wizard who knew me better than myself. If I didn't apologize to the greatest wizard in the Wizarding World, why should I apologize to an impudent boy? Much less after his unkind remark about my father.  
  
The contradiction within me was frustrating. I would never humiliate myself by asking for advice from anyone, not even Albus, especially Albus, on this matter. This was my personal business and if I couldn't settle such a simple matter, a quarrel with a seventeen year old boy, don't call me Severus Snape.  
  
***********************  
  
Before I had decided what I must do about Harry, a new problem emerged, thanks to the Red Eyed Bastard that was formerly Tom Riddle. In the next Death Eaters' meeting, he punished Draco and me for failing to kill Harry. He didn't know that the poison had been replaced; Albus made him think that the poison he had given to Lucius only rendered Harry magic-less. (We had decided not to trap Blaise first since it might turn the suspicion to me instead.) Logically, it was not our fault if the poison hadn't work. Of course, that blasted dictator wouldn't listen to logic or reason or anything but his own blasted self. His plan had failed and someone was going to pay.  
  
"Severus," he bellowed.  
  
"Yes, Master," I croaked. I couldn't even kneel again; I was shaking badly and internally injured.  
  
"Kill Black and Lupin and bring their corpses here within a month or else.," he stopped, letting the ominous silence speak for itself.  
  
"Black and Lupin?" I asked hoarsely. "Not Harry Potter?"  
  
"Crucio!" he shouted and the pain began again. My body convulsed and I spat blood. Thankfully, he lifted the curse within a minute or my mind would have snapped. "Don't ever question me, you wretched thing," he said lazily. "And as for why I want Black and Lupin, even a Squib can kill Harry Potter right now; he's not a threat for now. At this moment, the most important thing is to destroy the old fool's Order. Black and Lupin have killed several of my followers and ."  
  
"Of course, my Lord," I whispered, feeling my consciousness drifted away. Draco had passed out for some time.  
  
"Lucius, bring these two useless things to the Forbidden Forest."  
  
"Yes, milord," he said; his face was as pale as a sheet. I hoped that he was anxious for his son, and therefore realized how utterly stupid to include his son in this madman's inner circle.  
  
I passed out when he held my hand to Apparate me to the border of Hogwarts.  
  
****************  
  
I woke in a hard bed and bright room, the Infirmary no doubt. As the consciousness returned, so did the pain. I groaned.  
  
There was a sound of footsteps rushing to me. "Severus, are you all right?" Poppy's voice. "You gave us quiet a fright, dear," she said while rubbing my arm soothingly.  
  
I tried to open my eyes, but the bright light hurt my eyes. I shut them. "Where's Draco?" I asked hoarsely, feeling my throat burn as I spoke.  
  
"You screamed you throat raw," Poppy said. "Here, drink this." I opened my eyes, slowly this time, and took the glass from Poppy's hand. It shattered to the floor.  
  
"Dammit," I swore. I coughed reflexively, but it hurt even more. That bastard was going to pay.  
  
"Easy, Severus." Poppy propped me on some pillows and helped me to drink the potion. The cool liquid flowed through my burning throat, soothing the pain.  
  
"Where's Draco? What happened?" I asked again.  
  
"He's fine, the Cruciatus didn't affect him as much as it affects you. I assume that You-Know-Who had put him under Cruciatus for a lesser period time than he did to you."  
  
"Oh."  
  
She put back the glass to the nightstand with trembling hands. Surprised, I looked into her eyes, which were burned with fury mixed with sorrow.  
  
"Poppy?" I inquired.  
  
"That. that monster!" She cursed. I had never seen her cursed before, or anything that resembled the passionate hatred she was showing. "He put a seventeen year old boy under Cruciatus, Severus. Because his potion didn't work!"  
  
"You know him," I said grimly, trying to steady my quivering hands without much success. "He put Harry when he was fourteen years old under Cruciatus, didn't he?"  
  
"He did," Poppy agreed. Her eyes were wet. It must be hard for her to see her children suffer. She turned to me and gripped my hands fiercely. "He must be stopped, Severus. At any cost. Promise me you'll stop him."  
  
I looked her in the eye, meaning every word as I swore, "I promise you, Poppy. We will annihilate the bastard, even if we have to sacrifice everything."  
  
And that sacrifice might include your onerous fate in the sadistic madman's hand, Severus, a voice inside me said. Unless I brought the two canine's corpses to Voldemort within a month.  
  
Barely a hard choice, wasn't it?  
  
***************  
  
A/N: this chapter, as well as the others, has been beta-ed. Thanks to all who have offered to beta for me. If there are still mistakes, I apologize and be thankful if you point them to me. Thanks to all who have read and reviewed. You guys means a lot to me. I am sorry for the long delay. It's because of several reason, one of them is the revision, another is the ever bugging writer's block. I promise I'll finish the next part as soon as possible. 


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

I had no desire to tell Albus about Voldemort's threat. First of all, I didn't want to add to his already overwhelming burden and responsibility. No matter what he decided, the blood would be on his hands. Secondly, I didn't want to know what his decision would be; it would be devastating for me if he put those canines' lives first before mine. Last, but most importantly, I had made up my mind about the situation, the second after Voldemort gave his threat.   

I would not act like a hero: sacrificing myself to save Black and Lupin's miserable existences. 

I could argue that I decided so because my position as the primary spy in Voldemort's inner circle was more important than theirs, and thus, pivotal in this war. I was very aware that it was not my sense of duty that prompted this decision, but self-preservation. I was a Slytherin after all. That, and the fact that I enormously loathed the two Gryffindors who had made my life a living hell. 

Especially the one who had snatched Harry away from me. 

%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%

It was a bright sunny day, and most of the Hogwarts inhabitants were enjoying the rare warmth in the middle of winter. It made little difference to my mood whatever the weather or season was, but I did appreciate fine days to collect Potion ingredients in the Forbidden Forest, especially the black roses which only bloomed in the winter.

It turned out that something had ruined the only Black Rose bush left in England. The bush looked like it had been trampled on -- probably the Centaurs who had no appreciation for magical flora. There was no bud left and the bush itself had dried for maybe several weeks. Imported Black Rose buds cost a thousand Galleon each; there was no way I could afford it with my salary as a teacher in Hogwarts. Damn it all to hell!

In a very foul mood, I returned to Hogwarts, neglecting to collect other herbs I might find should I care to look for them. But what for? With the amount of disappointment I was feeling, I might end up hurting myself instead, as the plants had developed an elaborate defense system to protect themselves. Kind of like me, actually, building emotional armaments and armor to fight and to defend myself from potential harms. I prided that no one had ever got through me. 

No one, save perhaps for the radiant beautiful being I had just seen.  

I had reached the border of Hogwarts, with all my foul mood and overwhelming desire to give a month of detention to whomever might be unlucky enough to cross my path. It was when I saw Harry with his friends, laughing and talking while they were taking out the contents of the picnic basket they brought, not noticing my presence. The Weasley brat had just smeared a plate of chocolate cake on Harry's face and robe. I saw that as an opportunity to spoil their fun by assigning the vilest detentions at my disposal to Weasley. Before I stepped out from my hiding place behind a tree, to give them the nasty surprise they deserved, Harry had burst out laughing. 

He had never appeared to me more beautiful than he was, regardless of the cake stains on him. His lips quirked, showing his white while the cream dripping from his nose to his red lips. The soft wind tousled his black hair, and the sun rays caused his skin to have some angelic glowing quality. But it was his eyes that made my breath hitch in surprise.   

They were shining with life and mirth, unadulterated from all the sorrow and burden he had been carrying all this time. The green fire didn't burn. Instead, it warmed everyone around him with its purity and … and what? It would, perhaps, took me a lifetime to define what I had seen that day. I wish I could say it was innocence, but he was not innocent. Not at all. He made mistakes, a lot of them were gigantic in proportion, he had hurt others, he could be arrogant, selfish, bratty, and annoying. Yet… Even after all these years I found it hard to believe that two little green orbs could be so expressive; was it possible that it was just my illusion my mind created in a lame attempt of wish fulfillment?  

I watched them quietly for seemed like hours, uncaring of the cold wind blowing and the cramp in my feet. My eyes were fixed on Harry, playing and laughing with his friends with blissful abandon I had never seen in him before. Although I only enjoyed their joy vicariously, as I was excluded from their activity, it made me wonder nonetheless if this was what people described as a religious experience. How long had it been since I felt this peace and contentment, or had I even felt it in first place? Could I taste it again in the future, even from afar?

The sun had set when Harry and his friends packed their picnic basket and cast Cleaning charms on their clothes. His two friends cast the charm on Harry, looking uncomfortable. Granger threw a sympathetic glance toward Harry, who only smiled. I was relieved beyond belief that Harry hadn't behaved like a loyal impulsive Gryffindor he usually was and told his friends the truth.     

Just when they were about to leave, a huge black dog ran toward them, tumbling Harry to the ground. Black. I scowled. They were wrestling now. Harry laughingly tried to push the mongrel away from him as Black was pinning him while slobbering all over the boy disgustingly. Weasley and Granger only watched the scene, laughing as well. 

"Get off me, Snuffles!" I heard Harry said. (Snuffles? What a proper name for the mutt!) He pushed hard, shoving the dog to his side.  

"Eww!" Weasley wrinkled his nose, noticing the dog saliva all over Harry's face and neck. Indeed, I sneered. 

Granger cast the Cleaning charm on Harry. Snuffles had apparently been satisfied by his game; he – it -- didn't try to knock Harry down again. Soon, Harry's dogfather indulged in the affectionate petting on the head, the proper affectionate gesture for a dog, by Harry and his friends.

"Snuffles is really cute, isn't he?" said Granger fondly, ruffling the dog's fur, who yipped happily. 

"He is," Harry smiled with unmistakable adoration in his voice. "He's my dream come true," he added. "I know you guys think that I am miserable for having lost my magic, but really, I wouldn't exchange this for anything in the world."

Hatred was not new to me; it was one of the first emotions I learned and the one I never stopped cultivating. I had seen many abominations done under the name of hate; I had even taken part in it. Yet, never had I felt such a blazing hatred and envy. It choked me, burned me, hurt me. I remembered falling on my knees to the ground in shock after hearing Harry's words. I didn't remember seeing Harry and his friends disappear into the castle, nor my journey to the dungeon. I only remembered the pain, the hatred, the uncontrollable desire to snatch back what was mine. 

Harry was mine! Where was that beastly mutt when Harry needed him? Where was he when Quirrel almost killed Harry, or when Harry needed comfort? Where? Harry was mine, because it was *I* who had been taking care of him, guarding him, teaching him, ever since he arrived at Hogwarts. What had that mongrel ever given to Harry that worth the boy's admiration?  Nothing! Save for an imagined family life.

Salazar, why had that bastard always ruined everything in my life? Wasn't it enough that he and his obnoxious friends destroyed my childhood that he must take away the only person I cared for now?

I emptied two bottles of Firewhiskey – a drink I usually found offensively cheap for my fine taste, but my Scotch had run out and  I needed to ease the pain in my chest, the all-consuming hate which was more than I could bear.  I collapsed on the couch after that, too drunk to move and too tired to care. 

%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%

The first thing I saw when I returned to the wretched world of consciousness was a long white beard in front of me with the background of a horrendous purple robe. I blinked. Who would have guessed that Hell was so horrific?

"Awake I see," a cheerful voice, that must belong to the purple robe owner, spoke up. 

I blinked again, then sudden realization hit me. Idiot, it was not a demon from the Hell. Worse, it was Albus and definitely with bad news since he hardly came to the dungeon.

"Albus?" I croaked. Another unpleasant realization struck: I had a hangover. And a terrible one.

"Last time I checked, I hadn't switched body with my brother," he quipped. Then his tone turned serious. "You didn't show up at breakfast and your first class today. I came here to see if you were alright."

"Oh," was the only articulate response I could give him since my brain cells still refused to cooperate. 

Albus looked around and noticed the shattered glass of the Firewhiskey bottles. From the labels, he could assume that I had drunk two bottles. "You're drunk," he said.

Normally, I would say 'thanks for stating the obvious'. Now, I could only nod. The foul taste in my mouth and the overwhelming headache was getting worse.

Albus sighed. He stood up and retrieved Hangover Potion from my potion cabinet and a glass of milk. "Here, drink these," he ordered. I hated milk, but I didn't object. 

We sat in silence for quite a long time. I supposed he was waiting me to sober enough for him to deliver an advice. Or he was waiting for me to speak up of why I got stoned in first place. Well, he knew me better than that. I purposely ignored him and pretended to be fascinated by the swirling liquid in my glass. 

That he was going to say, "I apologize, Severus," had never entered my mind. 

My head snapped to his direction. "What for?" I asked in trepidation that he was about to bring me bad news.

He sighed deeply. The weight of his old age and his massive responsibility were apparent in his face and eyes, a lot more than I had ever seen him before. 

"Albus?" I inquired.

"I've pushed you into this," was his enigmatic reply.

"Pushed me to what?" I frowned in confusion. 

"This." He pointed to the shattered glass. "This addiction, this unhappiness."

I opened my mouth, about to object, but he raised his hand to stop me. "Let me finish," he ordered.

"I've known that your spying activity, your life as a double agent, has always put a great strain on your life, on your happiness. Yet, I have always thought that you've always been strong enough, whole enough, to go through this without any significant damage to yourself. But today you missed class, something that had never happened before, and you were drunk, picking up your drinking habit which you left since the first war was over. It's all my responsibility."

Of course, I was startled by his confession. The thought that Albus was responsible for my problematic drinking never crossed my mind. After all, this was my responsibility, my role, my penance for my past sins. 

"I'd never blame you, Albus," I told him. 

 Albus didn't reply. He merely walked out of my room, still with the grave expression and regret in his blue eyes. He made me feel guilty.

"Albus," I hesitated, afraid of accidentally exposing something I wish to hide, but the urge to ease my mentor's pain was unbearable. "What my irresponsible behavior today, and my reckless drinking last night was not caused by you." It was caused by that favorite mutt of yours was left unsaid.

"Severus, I…" he stopped. I looked at him, confused. "Never mind. I just want to tell you that Harry came to me yesterday night. He asked me to let Remus Lupin teach him Cosmos magic."

"He… what?"

"He asked for Remus as his teacher," he repeated, watching my reaction with curiosity. "I can assure you that Remus is more than qualified to teach Harry. He has been learning Cosmos magic from Benedictine the Bad, one of the best Cosmos mages in Britain, since he resigned from Hogwarts."

"I see," I said. My expression was cold as ice. "It seems that I am no longer needed in Harry's life."

"Severus…," he looked at me apologetically. "Harry has the right to choose his teacher, especially since he's not a Hogwarts student anymore. I am sorry."

I didn't respond to that. After the Headmaster left, I sank into my chair, doing nothing but staring mindlessly into the ashes in the hearth. My only reason to interact with Harry had gone. By the boy's own request. 

%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%

It was pathetic to creep slowly in the night like the unwanted guest I was, peeking into Hagrid's hut, just to have a glimpse of my one and only addiction, Harry Potter. (I wasn't an alcoholic, despite Albus' opinion.)

I levitated myself to reach a little hole near the roof, mindful to not make any noise. As I peeked inside, I saw him already asleep. 

His was the epitome of beauty, and peace. He was covered by a thick duvet with pictures of lions on it; courtesy of Mrs. Weasley no doubt. In his arms, he held a stuffed stag I didn't know he had. His mussed hair looked soft and enticing. Ah, if only I could run my fingers through his hair, lavishing it with the attention it deserved…

My fantasy was interrupted when Black's abominable body came into view. He bent to kiss Harry's forehead and caressed the black mane I so secretly desired. I saw him smiling as he did so, showing the loving side of him I had never imagined he had. Had he showed the better side of him in other occasion, it would have no effect on me. But this…

I was sick with jealousy and anger. My emotion wasn't alleviated at all when Harry was awakened by the affectionate gesture and smiled back to Black.

"Sleep well, pumpkin," Black murmured. 

Harry chortled. "Pumpkin?" he slurred in a sleepy voice.

"Yeah, pumpkin. It was what your grandma called poor James. She always tucked him to bed, kissed his forehead, and said goodnight with this endearment to your dad, even when his friends were sleeping at his house. You can imagine his reaction and ours." Black grinned.

"He must have been very embarrassed." Harry giggled. I never recalled seeing him giggle before.

"He is. And we'd call him "pumpkin" to tease him until he secretly asked all of our respective mothers about our embarrassing nicknames and teased us back with them."  Harry giggled again; he was fully awake now.  

"But you know what's worse?" Black smiled mischievously.

"What?"

"Your grandma told your mom on their wedding day to 'keep her pumpkin well fed and happy'. Lilly almost passed out from surprise. 'Pumpkin?' she said loudly in the church for all to hear. 'I am married to a pumpkin? Where the hell is the cool Auror of the year I was engaged to?'"

Harry was downright laughing by then while Black's grin was widened by his success in telling a joke. 

"Oh, God," he said. "On dad's wedding day?"

"Right after the vow was spoken."

"Oh, God." Harry burst into another fit of laughter. "Poor dad." Then he was choked.

"There, there." Black brought him some water and patted his back to help his breathing. 

Harry drank the water. "Thanks."

"No big deal." Black shrugged.

"I mean for telling me about my dad."

Black smiled and ruffled Harry's hair. "No problem. Now sleep. I shouldn't have made you laugh like that. It can give you nightmares, some said."

"Okay," Harry said. Black stood up, probably intend to sleep in his own bed on the other side of the hut, but Harry tugged on his pajamas. "Sirius, would you like to sleep with me? You know, to keep me from nightmares…" Did I sense him leering at Black? It was probably my imagination, but it drove me mad nonetheless. 

Black laughed. "Sure. Why not?"

The last thing I saw was Harry scooting aside to give him more room. I couldn't stand to watch anymore. I couldn't stand to imagine the closeness they shared, Harry shared, with the goddamn bastard mutt. I Apparated to London and went into a bar to order no less than ten glasses of the strongest absinthe. The slight bitterness was nothing compared to the acidic poison in my mind and soul.

 %~%~%~%~%~%~%~%

The next morning was the werewolf's arrival at Hogwarts. Minerva told me that the beast would take residence at Hogsmeade and came to Hogwarts twice a week for Harry's lessons. She was unambiguously glad that the task was now Lupin, one of her golden boys, rather than me. As a polite woman and a good colleague, she tried to hide it, but her poor acting skill couldn't fool my trained eyes. 

I watched their first training, as requested by Dumbledore, in a very sour mood and head throbbing from lack of sleep. I yelled and snapped at Harry every time he failed to remember our past lesson. Harry glared at me furiously. 

"We can always try again, Harry. Your accomplishment so far is very good," Lupin said comfortingly. His patience and "kindness" made me want to retch. 

Although it worked well to make that lazy brat liked him. He looked at the werewolf gratefully and smiled. "Thanks, Professor," he said.

"Call me Remus, Harry. Officially I am not your professor anymore. I am just your tutor." The werewolf smiled back. "Now, try again."

Harry ignored me the rest of the lesson, pretending I didn't exist. His attention was fully on Lupin, who indulged him with many undeserved compliments on Harry's poor performance. His indifference hurt me more than his anger, which I had grown accustomed to. 

"Terrible, Mr. Potter," I smirked. "With skills like that how can you expect to save the world? I don't think you can ever protect yourself from a werewolf attack."

He was angry at my cruel remark, I knew. He was about to lash out, but Lupin touched his hand gently and shook his head once. Harry took a deep breath and continued to ignore me throughout the lesson. 

After the lesson, Lupin thanked me for helping Harry and tried to engage me in a conversation with his sickening saintly good manners; one of his traits I despised most. I turned from him, and walked away without a word, choked by the intensity of loathing I suddenly felt for this repulsive creature. 

If there was any doubt left to follow Voldemort's plan, it had been squashed down. 

%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%

A/N: Thanks to Theresa for beta reading. 

Response to reviewers: 

Saavik: I don't see why if Draco wakes up, everyone will know he's DE unless he's been marked. In this story, I assumed he hasn't since he failed his first assignment, which was supposed to be the test to be a DE.

Unknown, toria, and lady Lighting, thanks for the reviews.    


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